


The List

by Rihaan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harem, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-06 13:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1859919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rihaan/pseuds/Rihaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started off as something simple - a snippy response to a sexist list he found. It was no big deal. He thought anger would be the biggest reaction, and practically destroy any relationship he could have ever had with a witch. Oh, was he wrong. So, very wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

The List. More or less the Hogwarts version of the Bible, or the Torah. Written by the most eligible bachelor in the Wizarding World, the Conqueror of Voldemort, the Boy-Who-Lived-So-Bloody-Many-Times-That-Sometimes- You-Wonder-If-He-Just-Might-Be-Immortal, Harry James Potter. It was a simple list. Some call it sexist; others call it stupid; but the majority of the Hogwarts population called it a necessity for the continuation of human life. Well, it was a bit of juicy gossip, anyway.

It was a list of the top ten hottest girls currently in Hogwarts.

‘Hottest’ wasn’t really the right word. Harry was an old-fashioned, noble fellow; he preferred to look at a girl’s inner beauty, before putting a face with a rank.

Though the outside attributes _do_ have a bit more merit.

It all started, as it usually does, with the girls, and their version of the list. Their list was, obviously, about the hottest guys in Hogwarts. Harry, being a fifth year, won the last two years, and was a shoo-in for his last two years at the school. Hell, there was even a talk about making him the first ever alumnus. In the past 400 years of The List’s existence, that was a tremendous honor.

Of course, Harry knew none of this. The only reason he found out was when he overheard Lavender and Parvati’s conversation. After a bit more ribbing, and more giggling than anyone could handle, he was given as much information.

So as he was in the girls’ dormitories, staring at the decorated, orderly parchment magically glued to the wall, he figured that it was time he replied to this.

When Hermione walked out of her room wearing nothing but a long Quidditch jersey and carrying a towel, tiredly rubbing her eyes and walking right past Harry, he felt inspired to start right away. It took a few seconds for him to notice his own last name on the back of the red and gold jersey.

For the rest of the week, Harry holed himself up in his dorm, using his pensieve to study every girl in Hogwarts fourth year and up. He didn’t worry about classes as much, although he did participate; Headmistress McGonagall, with a smile tugging her lips, felt that defeating a Dark Lord single-handedly was one of the main reasons for getting an education in the first place – really, he was only there to keep some sense of normalcy in his life.

He sighed tiredly as he finished the most recent memory. With his clout, he probably could have gotten every girl to form a line for a bit of modeling and an interview, but he felt that he should judge from natural beauty and everyday interactions, not from make-up and scripted lies.

Fortunately, he had met quite a few girls, due to his fame, classes, and Quidditch matches. He already had an idea of who would go on the list, but he didn’t want to be biased.

So, after a few minutes of consideration, he put down a name.

* * *

Parvati Patil, obviously in a foul mood, wordlessly plopped down on the arm of the comfy plush chair that Harry was doing his homework on. “What is that?” She demanded, pointing towards the bulletin board that everyone in the common room was currently murmuring about.

There, right in the middle of the board, was a simple parchment numbered 1 through 10 with the title, ‘ _The Top 10 Most Beautiful Girls at Hogwarts_ by Harry Potter’. Only on the number ten, was there a name.

Harry was confused at Parvati’s anger for only a half-second. She wasn’t angry because she was on the list, she was angry because she _wasn’t_.

But her twin sister was.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Padma and I are _identical_ ,” she started.

Harry acknowledged that with a nod, still looking over his essay.

She looked uncertain when she continued. A silent Harry honestly scared her. “Padma…” she began in a softer tone, “…she means a lot to me. I understand if you don’t want to tie us, but I refuse to be at a higher number than her.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Harry looked up from his assignment to look her in the eyes. “But I wasn’t planning on giving you a higher number. I’m sorry.”

“What?” she ground out, her tone a bit more frosty. “Explain.”

Harry sighed. “I’m not just judging here on looks, Parvati. I would have no problems on tying you two if it were just looks. I judge on character as well. Padma looks just like you, yes. But she’s also completely different from you. Take this situation, for example. If it was the other way around, and you were on the list, Padma would probably just be happy for her sister and move on. After all, it’s just a stupid list.”

As he finished, The Common Room door opened up, revealing Padma Patil. Harry only looked past her sister, mildly concerned at the exotic beauty heading their way. She shot straight for him. She noticed the close proximity between her sister and Harry, and growled. “This isn’t some crappy pick-up line, is it? If you’re going to do the same shit you pulled with me at the Ball, I swear I will kill you right now!”

Parvati looked more than a bit confused, while Harry just blinked. Finally, he gave a genuine smile. “It seems I misjudged you. Great!” He grinned brightly, and even after the words she said, she couldn’t help but blush. She stared back defiantly.

“What’s going on?” Parvati started, looking between the two.

“Simple,” Harry murmured, casting a spell from his fingertips to the parchment on the board, arching beautifully over the gathered crowd. “The List in here wasn’t connected to the Lists in the other common rooms. The one in _here_ was different than the other three, the others that _were_ linked together. Now, whatever I write here, will show up on the others. Number Ten was different here. In here, it was Padma on the list. In the others, it was Parvati.”

He let them absorb the information. Padma saw through the trap first. “What did she say?”

They both turned to Parvati. She fidgeted and turned away. Harry answered for her. “She wasn’t as vehement as you were. She was protecting you, but in a completely different way. Now it’s final. Padma’s on The List. If both of your reactions were the same, I would have tied you for it… ” He shrugged and turned back to his paper.

Padma looked deeply embarrassed, and Parvati was still turned away, not looking at either of them.

“Harry?” the Ravenclaw tentatively began. “It’s… it’s not because of that date, right? This isn’t your way of apologizing, is it?”

“I’m afraid not, Padma,” Harry said, looking up once again and setting down his fountain pen. “I’ve already apologized. This will be a completely unbiased list.”

“Wait – you didn’t apologize!” She accused, but not with any venom in her voice. It was a year ago, and she had silently forgiven him soon after, but she definitely would have remembered an apology.

“But I – oh.” He turned to Parvati.

Padma seemed to understand. “You apologized to her, thinking it was me? I thought you could tell the difference by now, Harry!” She sounded accusatory, but she was more tired than angry. No one could tell the difference.

“Your hair is slightly longer. Your eyes are a bit sharper and you don’t wear make-up. You wear more conservative clothing, and no jewelry. Not to mention, different color trimmings on both of your robes. Only an idiot could not see the differences.” They both looked at him, a bit more than shocked. He shrugged. “ _I_ was an idiot ’til after the ball.”

“And _after_ the ball… ?” Parvati inquired.

“After the ball,” he glared at Parvati, “I asked _you_ if I could talk to Padma to apologize to her. She said she’d pass the message on to you, Padma. I assumed you had said ‘no thanks’, since neither of you rarely spoke to me after that.”

“She did _what_?!” She yelled, drawing a bit of attention. Harry, a bit annoyed at the nosy onlookers, cast the _Muffliato_ spell around the three.

“I… I – didn’t think you’d want to talk to him – “

“The hell you _didn’t_! I bloody cried on your shoulder that night!”

Harry looked at her in surprise. “Really? I… I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” She murmured absently, frowning at her sister.

“Yes it is!” Parvati yelled at her sister, finally turning towards them. “He ignored you all night! You spent a year’s worth of your allowance on that dress after he asked you out. You just said it – you cried on my shoulder! Whose fault is that?”

“ _Mine_ ,” Harry murmured, feeling terrible. She did all of that? For him? “I didn’t… I mean I should’ve… how – how can I make it up to you?”

Padma looked somewhat stressed. She looked back between her sister and Harry, before settling on him. “Isn’t it a bit late?”

“I could pay you back,” Harry looked into her eyes, “for the dress. I _will_ pay you back. I won’t take no.”

She could see the seriousness in his eyes and knew not to argue. Refusing a Dark Lord Slayer can only lead to another slaying. “I’ll, umm, make you a deal.”

Harry nodded, giving her his full attention.

“What were you going to say – If my sister had passed it on?” She asked him.

He immediately answered. “I’d say I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I’m a right git, and I should have come to my senses and actually paid attention to one of the most beautiful girls at the ball. I know you have no reason to ever talk to me again, but I just want you to know that the way I treated you was very deplorable and you, of all people, did _not_ deserve it.” He said it all without breaking pace, without thinking. When faced with the twins’ amazed stares, he leaned back in his chair and looked past Parvati to the ceiling. “I … I’d written it down a few nights after the ball. Pretty much memorized it.” He tilted his head to Padma. “As I said, I was stupid. Should’ve gone to look for you myself.”

Padma felt a tear coming. “Thanks,” she whispered to him.

Harry nodded wordlessly. “I’m still paying you.”

“I’ll make you another deal.”

Harry sighed and conceded.

“Try again.”

“Hm?”

“Try again.”

Damn Ravenclaws and their cryptic messages. It didn’t take Harry long to figure out what she was implying, but he wasn’t so sure. In a somewhat cautious voice, he asked “Would you, umm… ” As he saw her grin, he couldn’t help but smile back. Mustering the courage, he continued, “Considering there isn’t a Yule Ball coming up anytime soon, I’ll try the next best thing. Padma, would you like to accompany me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Padma, her grin wider than ever, nodded. Parvati sat there numbly, watching the exchange of smiles, before she groaned loudly, hopped off the arm of the chair and stomped off.

“I suppose… I should have asked her out too?” Harry wondered, confused.

“I’ll talk to her later,” she murmured darkly, her grin souring as she was reminded of her other half’s betrayal.

“Meet at the carriages at eleven?” he asked, trying to bring her good mood back.

It worked as she smiled back at him. “Can we make it ten?” She asked. When Harry nodded, she waved before sprinting off to the girls’ dorms. She was obviously not going to hold off having a talk with her twin.

Harry took a glance back at his work and realized with a start that he was finished. Good thing, too – he didn’t think he could’ve kept writing at this point.

He rolled up his parchment before he heard Padma speak next to him. It had to have been Padma – she sounded civil, and her voice was soft. “Sorry, I, umm, forgot something.”

Harry glanced at her. “What did you – ” He was cut off by Padma’s lips against his own. It was only a second, maybe a second and a half, but when she pulled back, she smiled and blushed cutely.

“I told myself I would do that if you ever apologized. Didn’t have to write that down.” She winked and ran back up the stairs.

He looked around the room; no one seemed to notice. He peered back at the staircase that Padma had already ascended. She certainly rose in the ranks of his list.

Harry sighed. He just _had_ to be unbiased, didn’t he?

With nothing else to do for the moment, he finished gathering his things and headed upstairs, already bracing himself for the next name.

He just hoped she didn’t kick his arse.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had no regrets about that day. They had never made a mistake in his eyes, and he didn't see a need to forgive them for something they didn't do. He just wished that he could tell them that.

The next day saw him turning in his homework to Professor Slughorn. He cleverly avoided Horace’s invitation to join the Slug Club by walking out of the room by the time the man could look up from the assignment.

And there, in the hallway, he ran into the second entry into his list, the number nine.

“Oh, Harry… just who I wanted to see,” she smirked.

Her look seemed decidedly predatory, and the dark hallway only accentuated her features. He felt the strong need to slowly back away and break into a run, but she’d catch him. She was a Chaser, after all.

“Katie,” Harry nodded to her, giving a fake smile. “How’ve you been? What’d you want to talk about?”

He was quite a bit taller than her, but he felt like he was shrinking under her gaze. The stunning Quidditch Goddess stepped towards him, her dark brown hair wafting to her nose – he couldn’t understand how she couldn’t sneeze from that – and she smiled.

Harry was somewhat glad he had kept his Basilisk-skin armor under his clothes since Voldemort’s defeat, including his protective cup, if that grin meant anything.

So he was greatly surprised when she hugged him.

“Err – Katie?”

He shouldn’t have been too surprised; in all of his years, Katie hugged him the most of his teammates, followed closely by Alicia and Angelina. In fact, they had always made a game out of embarrassing him by smashing his face in-between their breasts and see who could get the reddest face out of their assault, out of asphyxiation or embarrassment. He never complained. In fact, in third year, he surprised Angelina by burrowing his face into her large chest until her nipples passed his ears, and finally got a blush from her. He grinned cheekily at the other ladies, and they, purely out of pride, attacked.

Best double assault he had ever gone through. He was certain he was going to suffocate, but damn, what a way to go!

He only noticed the large black dog – the _grim_ – in the bleachers after the girls left, with a lone tear falling from its right eye. Harry found it a bit odd, so he took a deep breath and walked over to it.

He was knocked out of memory lane when Katie let go. For the first time, he was a bit sad that he was taller than her now. Until the beginning of fourth year, he was eye-level with the Katie’s and Alicia’s boobs, and Angelina always bent down to hug him. He always greeted them with open arms, and other than Hermione, to that day those three were the only ones he ever _initiated_ hugs with.

“Just wanted to thank you for considering me for your list,” Katie said shyly, smiling at him. Harry found it cute; she was barely ever shy when he was being knocked around by her firm tits.

“It was hard to _not_ consider you,” Harry said honestly. “You’re one of the most beautiful girls in the school. Even if I never knew you, I certainly would’ve noticed.”

Katie smiled her thanks. “So I guess it’s not because of our little games, is it?”

Harry smirked that damned smirk again, underestimating its powers. “If it was because of that, you’d be number one.”

Katie blushed and stepped towards him again. “I’m sure Alicia and Angelina would be quite jealous to hear that. But I thought you were unbiased,” She murmured, lightly poking the middle of his chest, not noticing the flesh-like armor of basilisk hide under his robes and uniform.

“I _am_ being unbiased,” Harry frowned, wondering if she even knew that she had started to lean on his chest. “Sorry I couldn’t make you any higher on the list. I- I’m trying my best to make my most honest opinion.”

She just hummed in agreement, lost in making patterns on his chest, staring fixatedly at her finger. He wasn’t exactly rushing to get her off of him, so he stood there, amused.

“I wasn’t aware I made such a wonderful canvas,” he chuckled, his chest vibrations making her grin silly. It was then she noticed that she was leaning completely on him, her cheek on his left pectoral, tracing his name on his right. Not that he noticed what she was tracing.

“Oh!” she squeaked, jumping away, only for Harry to grab her hand and pull her back to him. She found her cheek pressed back to his chest, and she looked up in surprise at him.

“Payback,” he smiled, and Katie took that as explanation enough, and continued tracing.

“I was lost in thought earlier,” she explained, blushing, “thinking about what I should do to thank you.”

“Hm?” Harry murmured, wishing he could feel her on him. He risked a chance by cupping her hand in his and stepping back. “What do you mean? You don’t even have to _say_ ‘thank you.’”

Katie waved it off. “I know I don’t have to, but you can’t expect me to believe that out of all the girls in this school, I was the ninth hottest? I didn’t even have boobs as big as Angelina’s.” She didn’t sound sad when she said it, more resigned really.

Harry frowned deeply as he wordlessly banished his basilisk armor. He felt much more limber now, and took liberty of that by effortlessly hoisting her onto his left shoulder. She squeaked in surprise, and not in protest, as Harry lightly tossed her in the air.

Feeling a bit adventurous, Harry moved to the middle of the hallway and performed the helicopter. He was twisting her around like pizza dough, however a much gigglier version.

Katie squealed in delight and spread out her arms, trusting Harry not to drop her. This was truly the best form of flying! She was getting quite dizzy, but she didn’t want to stop.

Harry was having a lot of fun spinning her, while trying to avoid her crotch. Her chest was too big of an obstacle to try to avoid, so he didn’t really bother. She was a light thing, so Harry took his time to get into a rhythm, and change it up by spinning her the other way. Every time, a squeal of excitement and surprise escaped her.

A couple of minutes later, Harry gave her one last toss-up before catching her bridal style. While she was completely in his arms, but terribly dizzy, she held onto Harry’s neck for support. She closed her eyes, wishing that the world would stop spinning, but loving the dizziness and adrenaline that came with it.

“I’ve seen you at your worst, Katie,” Harry noted, and she had a hard time remembering what they were talking about to begin with. “I’ve seen you covered in sweat, hair stuck to your face, covered in mud, bruised up, black-eyed – and that’s just the top of the list. Yet, _somehow_ , you always come out looking as beautiful as ever.”

Katie opened her eyes to see two sets of green orbs that eventually hazed together into one set. “Make-up is for girls that aren’t pretty enough sometimes. That’s why you don’t wear any. That’s why you _shouldn’t_ wear any.”

He let her absorb that information, before he deemed her ready enough to stand. He released her legs and held her tightly to him, lest she fell. He wordlessly and wandlessly conjured a full body mirror for her to look into.

She was blushing – that was pretty clear. She was grinning like a fool, she should probably stop that. Her robes were wrinkled. Somehow, her bra was still in place. Pity. Thankfully, her robes had never splayed open, so he wouldn’t have accidentally gotten under her skirt and found her absolutely soaked knickers.

On second thought… once again. Pity.

She absently brushed her hair out of her face. She should really stop grinning, her face might get stuck like that. She leaned her head on Harry’s lean shoulder, and couldn’t help but notice how good the picture looked. Where was Creepy Creevey when you needed him?

Even mentioning Creevey couldn’t take that damned smile off her face.

She noticed that Harry was grinning as well, but not stupidly, like her. Far from stupid. It did things to her that she was glad she was wearing a robe. She’d poke an eye out if she pulled him into one of her old hugs.

Damn, that sounded like a good idea. Stop smiling like that, it’s starting to get disturbing!

“I’ll be honest here – I don’t see how you _couldn’t_ be beautiful,” Harry murmured, staring into the reflection. “I mean – look at you!”

She couldn’t help but smile brighter at the two of them in the mirror. “I see your point, Harry – I’m a bloody bombshell.”

He chuckled again, and she stopped herself from shuddering into his chest. She tentatively picked up her right hand and began tracing again. “Y’know, I was just going to thank you by smashing your face into my boobs, like old times, but I can’t help but feel that you’re a bit too mature for that.”

“No I’m not,” Harry whined, which earned a bright laugh from the older witch.

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t take you up on your offer anyways. I’m taking Padma to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

Katie kept tracing as she looked up to him. “Is she your girlfriend? Or just a friend?”

“It’s a first date. I don’t think she’s my girlfriend. Not yet anyways. She gave me my first kiss yesterday.”

She stopped tracing. Her hand lingered for a moment, and dropped back to her side. “Oh… that’s nice. First kiss?”

Harry banished the mirror and let go of Katie. “Sorry.”

“For what?” she asked, furrowing her brows. She stepped back to look at him.

“I, err… I read out the letters that you were tracing on me in the mirror,” he said embarrassingly.

She looked fearful. She wanted to run. She wanted to run so badly. And never turn back. She wasn’t very aware of what she was writing, she was doing it subconsciously. But she saw how embarrassed he was. And she felt that her embarrassment should be multiplied.

“Umm… what was I tracing?” Katie mumbled, hiding her hair in her face. She was glad she didn’t wear a scrunchie that day.

“‘Harry and Katie,’” he said after a few seconds of hesitation. He stayed silent for a few more seconds. He came to a decision. “Look, if things don’t work out between Padma and me, or if she decides she wants to be friends, then do you think – “

She didn’t know what to think, because then she was kissing him. She could tell when he panicked. She could understand why. Technically, he was cheating on Padma. Screw Padma. She never had a problem with the stunning Ravenclaw, but… she knew Harry longer than the girl… she deserved at least one kiss, a right by conquest or something.

Yeah, whatever. She had no legitimate reason to kiss him. But she wasn’t going to stop.

Harry had the sense to flick a notice-me-not ward in the hallway, before trying to relax in the sensation. He tried not to think – thinking usually got him into trouble. Well, more trouble than he was probably already in.

He began kissing back. He had always had a bit of a crush on the Gryffindor Chasers, Katie in the forefront. It was like fulfilling a childhood dream. Harry hugged her tightly to him as they made out. Katie was submissive, he noticed, as he quickly took control. He sought entry into her mouth, she didn’t think to not let him in.

He really didn’t have much to go by, having had his first kiss the previous day, but he just went with it. Katie may not have been doing anything, but in his eyes, she was the perfect teacher.

Apparently, he didn’t give her enough credit when it came to dominance, because he heard a soft click. He opened his eyes to see Katie with a small grin. She turned him around to see the open door that she had seemingly just unlocked and gently pushed him into the classroom. She shut the door behind her.

This was one of the many abandoned classrooms in the school. Harry and Katie, both being prefects, knew this very well. They had to break up a few snogging sessions, mostly from 6th and 7th years.

So Harry could easily figure what this was leading to. “Katie,” he held up a hand, “we can’t do this.”

“I know,” she frowned, standing still.

Harry froze, perplexed by the calm answer. “Then, why are we …?”

She slowly pocketed her wand. “I got carried away. It’s just that I’ve wanted to do that for…” she paused, unsure of what to say.

The powerful wizard blushed, remembering what she was tracing on him. “I’ll be honest Katie, I like you.” She looked pleased to hear that. “And if I didn’t invite Padma to Hogsmeade yesterday, I’d be asking you right now.” He tried to search for the next words to say. “So… how about you and me make a deal?”

She tentatively stepped closer. “A deal? What kind of deal?”

Harry gave a nervous grin. He really, truly, did not know the power of that grin – or any grin that he gave, really. “Same as always. We’ll go to the pitch. I’m thinking we race this time.”

Katie nodded. “If I lose?” She wasn’t stupid. Harry won over eighty percent of their bets. It was one of the reasons she liked him so much – he was so noble, their bets were always so innocent. She never made the proposition, she was willing to do anything with him, but she wanted him to be comfortable.

“If you _win_ , I tell Padma what we did,” Harry proclaimed. “Whatever comes next is completely her decision. If she decides I’m not worth the time, then maybe you could be my back-up date?” He accidentally ended it as a question, unsure of himself.

Katie nodded encouragingly, not sure how she felt about him telling Padma. She’d never be so under-handed as to tell Padma about her kissing Harry, mostly because she knew she’d probably regret breaking them up just for her own crush. She knew she’d also regret knowing that if she told Padma, Harry could be _hers_. Selfish, but _oh_ so worth it. She wouldn’t do it, but she could still feel bad about _not_ doing it. Harry avoided that whole situation altogether.

“If you lose… ” Harry muttered to himself. “If you lose, then… um…” Harry paused. “You know, you never told me what you think about all of this.”

She looked confused. “What do you mean? All of what?”

“Padma and me. I mean, I know you like me, and you know I like you. But I like Padma as well, and I owe her. What do _you_ think I should do?”

Katie couldn’t help but be overtly honest with him. “I don’t know. I barely know her, but I know she’s a nice girl. I’m sorry if I hurt her. I’m just confused about _why_ she likes you. Wait, I didn’t mean it like that! I mean… how often have you talked to her before yesterday?”

“Not a lot,” he had to admit. “But I asked her to the Yule Ball last year. I was kinda rude to her, I ignored her most of the time. I’m trying to make up for it.”

“Rude to her?” she asked him, confused. How, in any possible way, could sweet little Harry be rude to a girl?

“I was… jealous,” Harry admitted. “I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to have fun. I had Padma on my arm, and the whole time I was wishing it was someone else.” Harry grimaced to himself. “I’m a douche.”

“You _were_ a douche,” Katie corrected him. “Now you seem to be atoning for it. So I suppose you apologized?” He nodded. “And she forgave you?” Another nod. “And _then_ you asked her out?” She asked incredulously. Nod. “And _she_ kissed _you_ , not the other way around?” A final nod. Somewhere along the way, she found herself pacing. She sat back on the teacher’s desk. “Wow. She must have quite the crush. I can’t get in between you two – Sure, you and I are, I’d like to think, closer friends, but it’s sweet that she never truly let go of hope for you two. I hope you can figure out what you are for each other.”

Harry didn’t know what to think. “I don’t _know_ her, though!” He groaned, his head in his hands. “All I know about her is that she’s smart, and nice.” He chose to skip ‘drop-dead gorgeous.’ “I know a lot more about you than I do about her, and I barely know you at all!” He sincerely looked up at her, not intending his words to sound bad.

Katie, however, had an evil little smirk on her face. “Oh, I’d say you know more about me than any boy could even _think_.”

Harry blushed at the reference.

He remembered, of course. It was after the last match of his third year. She had pulled him into a fierce hug after he had stepped out of the locker rooms. But that wasn’t where the tale began.

She had heard from Hermione earlier in the year – when the girl mended Harry’s glasses before the match – that he should make sure his glasses fit well, that it would not do to have them fall off in the middle of the match. He laughed, saying he wouldn’t know if he was running into a goalpost or a Dementor without his glasses. That snippet of news had her intrigued, and she talked with her two best friends about it. Alicia and Angelina were both interested about how the glasses affected his vision.

After the Dementor accident, wherein Harry ironically ran into a Dementor, all three girls felt that it was their fault. Their teammate had fallen to the ground and all of them were too paralyzed to try to catch him, yet he still had the wherewithal to catch the snitch on the way down, before Professor Black caught him in a levitation spell. But they had no idea how to make it up to him. And then they remembered what Hermione said about his eyesight.

The very next year, before the Start-of-Term Feast, the three girls put their money together to get Harry the best magical contacts money could buy. It had a few special spells and effects on them, including same power as Moody’s eye, able to see through anything except clothes. Unfortunately for Harry, _those_ contacts were very illegal; so illegal, in fact, that the spells for that didn’t exist.

Harry was very grateful for the gift nevertheless, and embraced them all. It was the _second_ time he ever initiated a hug. It was then that he noticed he had finally passed the shoulders of Katie and Alicia, and did the only thing he could do – he, very subtly, wrapped his arms around the top of their thighs and hoisted them up by their rears to catch up with Angelina.

Of course, the girls protested lightly, but Harry was too busy suffocating himself to notice. The three girls and one boy parted ways that day, flushed, laughing, and completely happy.

What Harry didn’t know, was that the contacts were a gift to him from the girls, because they felt bad for what they did to him.

They didn’t know he had no regrets.

So, back to the point of the story, the very last match of Harry’s third year against the Slytherins. They had, once again, won the Quidditch cup thanks to Harry. So, what better way to celebrate than to play their favorite _unofficial_ game?

While the others went to the Locker room, Harry decided to do a few victory laps, pulling Hermione out of the stands with him.

Instead of the usual screaming whenever Hermione flew on a broom, everyone was shocked to hear her screams of joy, as she held Harry tightly to herself.

The Chasers saw none of this, they were already in the girls’ locker room, steeling their nerves for what was about to happen.

When Harry finally decided to walk into the changing room for the boys, the others had already left.

So he found himself being pulled into a fierce hug by Katie after he had stepped out of the locker rooms.

He had stepped out of the locker rooms… into the shower.

When one steps into the showers, they usually tend to leave things behind. For Harry, that entailed his clothes and his glasses.

Since Katie didn’t have glasses, she had only left her clothing behind.

So did Angelina and Alicia. Before Harry could even comprehend what was going on, he was attacked from both sides as well.

It was heaven. It was nothing short of heaven and bliss. And due to his poor vision, the girls didn’t really have any regrets. But they realized how embarrassing it must have been for him days later, and the fact that he had not seen them clearly, made them feel like teases. As stated earlier, that was why they felt the need to give Harry wonderful contacts, that never needed to be removed. And before they could muster the courage to decide on an encore performance, the TriWizard Tournament began, and the bi-weekly trips to the showers were cancelled.

Harry found himself smiling at Katie. “You’re amazing; you know that, Katie?”

She found herself smiling. “Harry, we scarred you for life. I wouldn’t call us ‘amazing.’

“I have to ask; what made you three do that? Don’t get me wrong – that was the greatest moment of my young life. You guys helped me kill hundreds of Dementors earlier this year with that memory.”

She blushed heavily. “We knew that since you didn’t have your glasses on, that you wouldn’t be able to see us. We figured ‘what harm could it do to a thirteen-year-old who obviously needed a pick-me-up?’”

Harry smirked at her and wordlessly pulled her to him. He dragged her along to the door and opened it. “I figured as much,” He admitted to her, and couldn’t help but chuckle. “If you lose our bet, then you’re not allowed to be mad at me for what I’m about to tell you.”

She looked at him. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes. God, she was so wet right now. “What? The fact that you were aroused?”

Harry’s almost frightened expression made her laugh. “I- I… was –”

“Impressive? Yes, you were. Very impressive. Especially for a thirteen-year-old. Have you aged well, Mr. Potter?” She was never this forward about anything, but she swore Harry brought out the worst in her. “It’s only a natural bodily reaction, Harry. I understand. And we were all quite flattered.”

“That was partly what I wanted to tell you, yes,” He muttered with embarrassment. He slowly backed away from her. “But I didn’t tell you why.”

“I thought that was obvious,” She reasoned, reaching for his hand and getting a firm grip around his wrist.

“Well, yeah,” He agreed unashamedly. “But what you didn’t know was that I’m _nearsighted_.” With a flick of his free wrist, his armor was back under his clothes. Just in case.

She stood stock still. Her feet were rooted to the ground. Her eyes went wide in surprise as the implication hit her.

Harry gently pried his hand from her grip as she just stood there, in shock. “Deal?” he whispered, not just a little bit fearing for his life.

She finally found her voice. “Deal.”

Harry had seen her. He had seen _all_ of them. Naked! Completely bare-assed _naked!_ In uninhibited crystal clarity!

She turned on the spot and scuttled away, deep in thought, completely missing his apologetic face.

One part wanted to hit him, scream at him, and smother him with her hugs until he couldn’t breathe again.

Another part – a much bigger part – wondered if he liked what he saw.

Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. That went well. It seemed that with every name, there came good and bad luck.

Did he regret it? Of course not. But it did make him wary.

And thus he strolled down the hall, opposite the direction Katie went, just knowing that he probably shouldn’t get up the next day.

Then again, he wouldn’t want to skip out on the chance to see Draco’s reply to this name.

But first, a little detour would be nice.

 


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I worry about you. It’s over. We did it; Voldemort’s dead. We can live now."

Harry removed his invisibility cloak.

“Harry! Wha- how did you get up here?”

Harry sat on the bed, and without a second thought, banished the basilisk armor underneath. It really wasn’t built with comfort in mind. He was currently putting spells on the Gaunt Family Ring that could protect him sufficiently, but until then, his armor would have to do. He had to practice Constant Vigilance, after all, especially around the other houses. But he trusted Hermione with his life.

“I shimmied up the staircase.”

“You… you what?”

Harry grinned as he fell back and his head hit her blanket-covered lap. “It was a trick someone taught me, and as it turns out, it works. See, when a bloke tries to run up the staircase, it turns into a slide, right?” Hermione nodded. “And the rail disappears when you grab for it, right?” She nodded again, furrowing her brows. “But what if you grab the _rail_ first?”

“If you touch the stairs _at all_ , then the rail disappears, regardless,” Hermione replied, biting her lower lip as she stared down at Harry, her back leaning against the headboard. She moved her books off to the side.

Harry nodded. “Exactly.”

They were silent. Hermione took this as her cue to put the rest of the pieces together. Even she had long ago accepted the fact that while she was still the smartest witch in her generation, it was rather clear that Harry wasn’t far behind as the smartest _Wizard_ in his generation. They were a formidable team together; the events of their past summer made that obvious.

During the comfortable silence, Hermione began stroking Harry’s hair in concentration. Harry practically purred as he closed his eyes, patiently waiting.

“So… you shimmied up the rail? And you didn’t touch the stairs at all?” She guessed.

Harry nodded, smiling, his eyes still closed. “Yeah. If I had known that before, I would have been doing that every day. Does wonders for exercise.”

Hermione glanced down at his stomach. She had noticed.

She tore her eyes away, thankful that he was still in his own land, and she ran her fingers through his head. “So, how does it feel now that you have full access to us girls _and_ an invisibility cloak?”

“Pretty good, actually,” Harry muttered, and Hermione tapped him lightly on the forehead. He chuckled. “You know I’m kidding, ‘Mione. I’ve only actually done it once before, when I found out of a certain _list’s_ existence.” He cracked one eye open. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Hermione cocked her head. “What list?”

Harry lifted his head and concentrated, before a small scroll appeared in his hand. Hermione had to grin at Harry’s impressive feats of magic every time he did it. “Apparently, every year for the past four hundred years, there has been a list of the most attractive males in Hogwarts. It’s been on the wall, right next to your dorm room.”

He wordlessly handed her the list, and she seemed surprised. She quickly got over her shock and looked down to him. “I had no idea,” she stressed, and Harry nodded, pleased at her answer. She took a glance at the parchment.

1\. Harry Potter  
2\. Cedric Diggory  
3\. Fred / George Weasley  
4\. Neville Longbottom  
5\. Lee Jordan  
6\. Justin Finch-Fletchley  
7\. Dean Thomas  
8\. Ernie MacMillan  
9\. Blaise Zabini  
10\. Zacharias Smith

“I can’t help but notice that all of the top names are war heroes,” Hermione commented, smirking.

Harry said nothing, still relaxing as one of her hands was still rubbing at his scalp.

“Not arguing about the first name, of course,” she said, and Harry _hmm_ ‘ed in appreciation. “And I guess that at the right angle, there is a certain _sparkle_ about Cedric… but I don’t particularly think some names deserve to be on this list. Number four, for instance. While Neville is a _great_ person, I don’t think he should be on this list. That’s not a slight against him or anything, it’s just that he seems to be the same Neville that we always knew.”

“That killed Bellatrix,” Harry muttered, “and Rockwood. Dueled both of the Lestrange brothers to a standstill before he got help. That’s sexy.”

Hermione moved the paper aside and smirked down at him. Harry opened his eyes.

“You know what I mean,” he said dryly. “The act is very attractive. It appears it’s always been more like the most eligible bachelor list instead of actually going on purely physical attraction. For instance, Draco was high on the list last year. I did a bit of digging and talked to Lav; apparently, his money made him very attractive. The fact that his dad is dead, his mother shames him on a daily basis, and he’s a Dead Dark Lord supporter, but he still _looks_ like Draco Malfoy, is not as attractive.”

Hermione snickered. “They should have seen him two years ago.”

Harry smiled as he remembered that day. Draco was talking about Buckbeak getting executed weeks before the trial, and Hermione had clearly had enough.

She really was a bomb waiting to explode, what with the constant use of her time turner. It was strange, really. He had used his own many more times than she ever did, but she was the more stressed. Technically, by this point, he was older than she was, when he kept his and her rotations logged. He could legally do magic outside of school by Christmastime, while she had to wait until mid-march.

Harry was secretly in the process of having a legitimate trial for Buckbeak, and he eventually won the case, but he decided not to tell Hermione until a few days before the trial – while Buckbeak’s impending doom worried her, it would be downright distressing if she began making notes, gathering evidence, and overall tiring herself unnecessarily.

So she did not know of the Hippogriff’s fate. And when Draco had claimed in a loud voice, meters away, that he just sent a letter off asking Macnair if he could buy the ax that’s going to take the beast’s head off, unwashed, and the head itself, stuffed, she lost it.

_He was proudly stating that Hippogriffs were a rare delicacy, and that he would be selling the meat at a hundred Galleons per kilogram when she approached him and punched him in the face, sending him to the ground and skidding a few feet. Crabbe and Goyle were quick to react, but Hermione had already – wandlessly – stunned Crabbe, who was closer, and Goyle was quickly stunned by Harry. Hermione slowly tied up her hair in a rubber band, removed her dark pink hoodie sweatshirt and tossed it to Harry, and put up her fists._

_“Stand up,” she threatened quietly to the Malfoy spawn._

_Draco scrambled to his feet. “You crazy Mudblood! When my godfather hears of -”_

_“I’ll take him down, too.” She charged at him, faster that he could have seen her coming, and socked him in the eye._

_Draco screamed as he was hit, having never been hit before in his life. He almost fell to the ground, but she had already grabbed the end of his tie, wrapping it around her hand carefully until her knuckle was connected to the knot. She hoisted him back to his feet, and his jaw connected to her fist once again._

_He cried and mumbled a few words, but she couldn’t hear them clearly enough. But she knew that they were coming out too clearly for her tastes, so she hit him again, in the same spot. When she heard a small crunch, she dropped him to the ground. She leaned over him and quickly located his right front pocket of his robes for his wand. She pocketed the wand as a souvenir and roughly kicked him in the side. When he grunted, she nodded to herself._

_“You tell anyone, I snap this wand,” she whispered roughly. “And I’ll make sure to come back to snap the other one. I’ll finish the job Buckbeak started – I promise that.”_

_She walked over to Harry, who wordlessly handed over her sweatshirt. “Too much?”_

_Harry shook his head. “Personally, I would have snapped the wand in front of him, and shoved both broken ends up his arse.”_

_“Language, Harry,” she chuckled, and they both walked along, Harry disabling the notice-me-not charm. “Besides, I don’t think that’s much of a punishment for him. I don’t want him to accidentally enjoy it.”_

_Harry laughed loudly, and they stepped into the school together._

Back in the present, the duo chuckled at Draco’s ‘mysterious absence’ from the school. Madam Pomfrey was paid quite handsomely by Lucius to place him in the bed in the corner, surrounded by curtains and wards, hidden from the rest of the wing. To this day, Poppy wondered if the money was worth it, to hear Draco’s voice complain and whine, but she still could not get a name from him.

“Miss Granger’s first foray into the abyss of depravity,” he laughed. “Still one of my favorite pensieve memories.”

Hermione smiled tenderly at him. “Thank you for the gift, by the way. I’ve always wanted one of those.”

“It still has all of Dumbledore’s memories in there. The useful ones, anyway.”

She nodded. “I checked out a few. It may not surprise you that he and the Dark Lord Grindlewald were the best of friends.”

Harry nodded. “More.”

“Hm?”

“More than best friends.”

“How can… _don’t_ answer that. _Please_ don’t answer that.”

“Like I said – only the important memories.”

“I’m sorry you had to sift them out,” she said genuinely, scratching through his raven locks with both hands.

“I don’t understand how a memory like that _can’t_ just combust into flames the second it leaves his head.”

Hermione chuckled. “I believe that should count as one more Life Debt owed, Potter.”

Harry smirked as he relaxed. “I’ll collect on it soon enough.”

Hermione blushed crimson, her legs shifting together. Harry, for one, loved his head tossed back and forth as he was gently rocked, and he smiled wider at the sensation. The two sat in a comfortable silence, lost in their own thoughts. Crookshanks was sleeping peacefully in the corner, and Harry concentrated on the half-kneazle’s breathing patterns for a moment, to regulate his own breathing. When Hermione shifted, Harry remembered why he was there to begin with.

“You know,” Harry sleepily murmured, “I worry about you.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“You look more tired every time I see you. Ever since we returned, you practically locked yourself up here. Romilda tells me that she has to deliver your homework back and forth, and you only get up when you have to.” He debated with himself for a few seconds. “It’s over, Hermione. We did it; he’s dead. We can _live_ now. I can understand wanting to escape the public eye, but still… I worry about you.”

“I leave the room every once in a while, Harry,” she soothed, “there’s nothing to worry about.”

Harry cracked an eye open, and she fidgeted against the intense stare. “You’re wearing the same jersey from when I last saw you.”

“Sorry? When did you last see me?”

“I was under the cloak,” he said, pointing to the silver sheet on the floor, “looking at the list for the first time, a week ago. You walked by me, I suppose on your way to the showers.”

Hermione blanched. “Oh. I see.” She cleared her throat, trying to slow down her fiercely beating heart.

“I didn’t follow you or anything,” Harry noted, enjoying her reaction.

“A warning would be nice,” she squeaked.

“Fine, then. I’ll warn you if I want to follow you into the showers,” he grinned. “But I have to warn you now, Padma may not like it.”

“Ah, yes, I heard from Parvati,” Hermione smiled, thankful to get away from their previous conversation, even if it was about Harry’s love life. “She said something about a list; I’m guessing it’s the list you just showed me. How did _that_ spark an argument between you three, and then you asking Padma to Hogsmeade?”

“Actually, that wasn’t the list at all.” Harry reached down into his robes pocket and pulled out a small scroll. “This is the list.”

Hermione daintily unrolled the paper and glanced at the two names before she noticed the title. “ _The Top Ten Most Beautiful Girls in Hogwarts by Harry James Potter_? _Really_ , Harry?”

Harry shrugged. “It sounded like a great idea at the time…”

“Doesn’t it always start that way?”

“…but it’s a really stressful job, honestly.”

“There’s not many names here for it to be very stressful yet. Only two so far, starting with number ten.”

“I’m adding one per day.”

“Why?”

“I like the suspense.”

“Are you sure you just don’t need ‘more time’ to form the list?” She asked suggestively.

Harry smiled. “While it would be fun to see what they would do to try to convince me, I’ve planned out the list since day one. You’d be surprised how many people take my word as law, even something as stupid as a list.”

“I’m not that surprised,” Hermione said with mirth. “So, so far you have Padma as ten, and Katie as nine. You started this list two days ago? How was the reaction?”

“Well, so far, Padma demanded that I take her to Hogsmeade,” Harry began with a fond smile, “and Katie wants to be my back-up date.”

“Impressive,” Hermione smiled at him, genuinely happy for him. “While this may lead to a clear abuse of power and an ego-trip you may never recover from, this might make for an interesting social experience and I’m sure I will love the crash-and-burn consequences that will follow.”

Harry guffawed loudly at Hermione’s prophetic proclamation. “Maybe,” he countered, “but I have a few cards left to be dealt before it all comes crashing down.”

“Oh, really? What?”

“Not what. Who.”

“Fine. Who, then?”

“You.”

“Me? What can I do? I’m not bailing you out of your mess.”

“Maybe not, but we both know you won’t completely abandon me,” Harry smiled, and she shook her head at his not-misplaced arrogance.

“Not _completely_ , no. What did you have in mind?”

“Simple. You go to Hogsmeade with me.”

“Backup number two? I’m not that kind of girl.”

Harry shrugged. “A guy can dream. But I wasn’t asking like that. I want you to be under the invisibility cloak. I want you to completely study her, watch her every movement, and at the end, grade her.”

“Grade her? You’re making her my assignment?”

Harry shook his head. “No, she’s _my_ assignment. I need you to find out if she would be more compatible to me.”

“I’m not exactly a matchmaker. How can I – ?” She paused at his meaningful look. _This_ was what she had been avoiding. “Harry – “

“ _Don’t_ give me that. You… you’re the only girl that ever meant much to me, ‘Mione. You know that. I know that.”

Hermione’s hand trembled – her breath took a sharp intake. “Harry…”

“It’s probably something you don’t want to hear, but it’s true.” Harry paused at the instant change in the atmosphere, but ultimately decided to press on. In for a penny…

“You know there’s _something_ there. I don’t know if it’s something like a sister, you mean too much to me for me to think of you as a relative.” He looked up into her eyes. “I’m going to live, with you by my side. The day that I die, you’ll be holding my hand, and you’ll be the last face I see. We’ve been through so much together that regardless of feelings, no matter who else you or I try to fall for, that much is going to happen, I’m very sure of it. And after that night at the Yule Ball, when you told me that I should see what else is out there for me, I refused to listen to you. You are _damningly_ stubborn; I didn’t account for that. So I’ll take your advice. Your decision is final. If you don’t think she’s good for me, I’ll let her down as gently as possible. If you decide that she’s great for me, then I’ll be happy.”

She looked misty as Harry sighed. “And if you decide that what happened between us was _meant_ to happen, and that I’m not a delusional nutcase with a slight incest complex, then I’ll be happier than you could ever know.”

Harry slowly sat up in the bed. He wordlessly incinerated the males list and took his own list from Hermione’s limp hands. Without looking at it, he poked the paper. A bright flash later, he put it back in her hand. “I want you to see if Padma is compatible to me. You know me better than I know myself. I listened to you before when it comes to my choice on girls, and while I still don’t like your judgment, I’m not going to question it.” He tiredly rubbed at his eyes and stood. “It’s getting late; I should go. Wouldn’t want to get caught like this, do we?” He gave a forced chuckle. He picked up his cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders.

A part of him had always wondered that with Voldemort gone, he might have been allowed to actually _live_. They had taken him down _together_. He had assumed… he had assumed that she would listen to _reason_ , that his decision still stood.

Enough time had passed for her to think about it. He wasn’t stupid. He _knew_ her. He knew what she felt for him. He could read her like a book. She was avoiding him. That much was also obvious.

But he was desperate. He needed an answer for this. Before this went any further, she had to know.

Now she knew. And tomorrow, this day will never be mentioned again. He’d accept that. Because she knew.

“Harry, wait!” She yelled, before he crossed the doorway. He turned back to her, and her lip trembled. “I… I’ll try. I know. And I’ll try. I promise. I _will_ try.”

Harry nodded, and a small smile whisked past his lips. Before he could turn back around, Hermione ripped the covers off the bed and she quickly got up, her long, flawless legs padding across the floor to put him in one of her crushing hugs. Harry welcomed her. Her face burrowed into his neck, and her hands hooked onto the back of his shoulders. Harry smelled in the scent of her shampoo – _vanilla_ – And clung to her.

“I’ll always be there for you, Harry,” She murmured into his chest. “I’ll always be with you. That will _never_ change.”

Harry nodded as he stroked her brunette curls. “And that’s all I can ask for,” He whispered. And he was honestly okay with the thought. He had said it himself – they would be together as long as they drew breath. No matter what happened in their personal lives.

They held on for minutes – taking comfort from each other, drawing the strength from each other – and pulled back.

Cinnamon brown met emerald green, and Harry pressed his lips against her forehead softly. Hermione closed her eyes and relished the feeling.

“Why?” She asked in a shuddering whisper.

Harry paused and pulled back. “Why, what?”

“Why do you think I’m s-special? Why… did you _always_ think I’m special? Ever since that night we became friends, you… you saved me. Ever since then, you’ve been my only friend, the only friend I’ve ever needed. I-I don’t know what the bloody hell I did to make you think that I’m… someone good enough for you. It just…”

A rustle of paper distracted her. She felt it whiz past her ear into Harry’s hand. He slowly unfurled the sheet and showed it to her. “Here’s the full list. Tell me what you think.”

Her eyes quickly focused on the first name on The List. She found herself wanting to laugh, but she couldn’t. It was too unbelievable – a joke taken to the extreme! “Harry, this is ridic-”

“ _I solemnly swear I’m up to no good._ ” Harry croaked, and at the bottom of the page, words started forming.

 _I swear on my life and magic that the order of names on this list is completely unbiased and is, to the best of my knowledge, what I truly believe it to be._  
Harry James Potter

Hermione stared at the words, then back at the name, trying to put the two together. She gazed at her own name for what seemed like hours, and when Harry spoke again, her mind struggled to process every word in her out-of-body experience. “I think you’re special because you are. I think you’re the most loyal, trusting friend I could _ever_ have in _any_ lifetime because you are. I think you are the most _beautiful_ girl in Hogwarts, the most beautiful girl on this _earth_ , inside and out, because _you are_.”

Harry took her free hand and placed it on his heart. “This happens,” he breathed, “Every time you’re near me. I’ve never found a way to stop that. It just beats so bloody fast I can barely hear myself _talk_ to you _._ One day, I’ll die of a heart attack, I just know it. Being around you just isn’t healthy, and that’s coming from _me_. It beats because _you have it_ , ‘Mione. It keeps beating because it thinks that one day, you’ll take it.”

Hermione was silent. “I… _I want it_.” She looked up to Harry’s eyes again. “I really do. I want it. I keep telling myself, I can’t, I can’t do it. But I can. And, if it’s not too late, I _will_. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life.” She breathed heavily, her own heartbeat deafening in her ears. “And that’s what scares me. It’s always scared me. I keep thinking that one day you’ll figure it out; that I’m not good enough for you. _Damn_ the fact that you’re the slayer of a _damn_ Dark Lord, you claim that I’m the only one that can see you for who you are; the real Harry. But there might be a time, a moment that you realize that _anyone_ can fall in love with you, _anyone_ with half a brain could get to know you if you let them, and they’ll _know_ that the Boy-Who-Lived can’t hold a _candle_ to you. It took a _troll_ for you to accept me as a friend. You don’t let people _in_. And when you finally do… when you finally do…”

“You will always be the first person that accepted me. You will _always_ be the one that comes to mind as the one person that I’ve always seen myself with. No one will know the things you know about me. _No one_ will do the things you’ve done and taken the steps you took with me, _for_ me, for _us_. We’ve practically taken on the world together, ‘Mione. What makes you think that _this_ will go away? If this…” he clasped his hand over hers, “…if this ever ends, this _bond_ that we’ve forged together, then there isn’t a chance that anything else will matter.”

Hermione looked at her hand clasped within Harry’s larger ones, and couldn’t believe how _perfect_ it all felt. She slowly slipped her hand from his grasp. She held it there for a moment, before she lifted her hand to his cheek. She stroked his clean face delicately. “I could never do this. I could never say those words. You… you’re so brave, Harry. Since the day I met you, I… you were always the reckless one, and yet it’s never backfired. What did I tell you once? First year? About there being more to being a great wizard than things like books and… cleverness?”

Harry didn’t need Occlumency to recall the memory. But first, he knew that they had been prolonging what he had wanted to do for years. He slowly leaned closer to her. She met him halfway as she stood on her toes and quickly pecked him on the lips. Before he could lean back, Hermione quickly stretched her arms around his neck and melded her lips with his with a ferocity they _both_ didn’t know she had.

_‘Friendship, bravery, and love, Harry. Don’t forget that. You can’t be stopped if you have enough of each. Books? Cleverness? That makes you a theoretically great wizard, but that doesn’t help against the things you find yourself in. Friendship. I’d like to think that you’re my best friend. Bravery – you were always a brave wizard. I don’t think we’re old enough to love, Harry. But you’ll find it. I know you will. Maybe I – … I believe in you.’_

Harry stepped back from her. “I believe in you, too, Hermione. More than anything else.”

Hermione’s heart soared – she got the message loud and clear. She kissed him again, before she quickly ran out of breath. She kept her hands linked around his neck as she rested the tip of her chin on his chest, breathing heavily.

Harry’s breathing was just as heavy as he pressed his forehead to hers. He gulped in a lungful of air, and closed his eyes. “Any regrets so far?”

“No, I don’t think so. And you?”

“No crash-and-burn consequences yet,” he whispered, and they both chuckled together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review, or give kudos, whichever you prefer. Just let me know you're there.


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius Black would probably give Harry a high-five. Not Professor Black. Time for a bit of practicality.

“Mr. Potter? A word, please.”

The room practically paused as one. They seemed dumbfounded for a moment. Who knew that Hogwarts’ professors were aware of the latest gossip, such as who was on a list?

Hermione smirked at Harry, who practically groaned.

For the first time in weeks, the couple found themselves attending class, if only for that sense of normalcy they had talked about having for a while, but never quite got until now. Harry had finally coaxed Hermione out of her dorm room the next morning – spending the night in his own dorm the previous night – and the two spent the day sitting next to each other in class. For the first time in a very long time, they felt like two normal students that only had exams to worry about – except they didn’t really have to take any exams.

There really were a lot of perks when it came to vanquishing a Dark Lord, and they honestly tried to take advantage of as many as they could, without going overboard.

The two began gathering their books slowly. The class filed out, some giving Harry painful, sorrowful looks. He knew that while they probably were genuinely sorry for him, they only wanted to be a fly on the wall in this inevitable confrontation. Of course, Draco was seething at him as he left the dungeon classroom. He had every right to be angry, and Harry had every right to grin cheekily at him. Sure, he felt nothing but nervous, but Draco didn’t have to know that.

Hermione patted Harry’s arm meaningfully and smiled in encouragement. He glanced at her and pouted.

While Harry did spend the night in his dorm, he had returned to her dorm quite early. They had spent most of dawn contemplating what to do at that point. While Hermione’s fears were mostly put to rest, she was still stubborn on the account that more people needed to get to know the real Harry.

And then he told her the full details of what happened with Padma, and then Katie.

_ “The moment I come to my senses, you start building a Harem,” Hermione laughed, a pure, bright laugh that Harry really needed to hear at that moment. “Harry- I’m  _ not _  mad. I  _ told _  you to do this. I’m not even mad at myself. Whatever happens with this, will happen. I don’t suggest you tell Padma or Katie what transpired last night, but if you decide that you can trust them enough, tell Katie first that  _ I  _ came onto  _ you _. With Padma, I’ll be there, without the Cloak, later in your date. We’ll see how comfortable she is around the two of us.” _

_“And if she stays, you’re going to fight her to the death?” Harry asked skeptically._

_“I’m a lover, Harry. Not a fighter.”_

_ “Says the war veteran.” Harry smirked, before a rather dirty thought entered his mind. “So… you’re going to  _ love _  her to death?” _

_ Hermione smirked wryly. “Anyone who sees past the boy-who-lived deserves, at the least, my friendship. Could I possibly entertain myself with the thoughts of sharing you? Yes. You’re the head of two houses, Harry – one day you were going to have to face facts. I would have considered this my punishment, but it’s really not. I told you to meet other girls, and you finally are. I’m  _ proud _  of you, Harry. And if they see you for you, and they like what they see, well, it could open my eyes to some things.” _

_“This has to be a trap,” Harry muttered, falling on Lavender’s bed to sit. “No way you’re actually serious about all of this!”_

_ Hermione was still, chewing on her bottom lip, a clear sign of nervousness. Harry waited patiently for her reply. “I… I’ve thought a lot about it, actually. At first, I thought I was just jumping to crazy conclusions. But it made so much sense.” She paused, and let out a shaky breath. “I already said it – it took a  _ troll _  for us to be friends. And if that night never happened… I don’t want to speak ill of him, because I shouldn’t, but I don’t regret one moment of that night.” She stared intensely at her twiddling thumbs. “Not one moment,” she repeated to herself. “If anything different happened, everything would be different. You became my friend, and I will always be thankful for that. But… if that night never happened, we would have never been as close as we are now… and frankly, I don’t think I would have wanted to ever gotten to know you. But not for the reasons you think. _

_ “Being such a bookworm, I probably would have believed the books  _ about _  you over you yourself. I’ve never read a book that was solely about you, so I could never have an opinion of you. If we had never become as close, or if certain situations hadn’t led me to that bathroom that night, I would have eventually read books about you. And I would have judged you. And that thought sickens me. _

_ “In my ‘what-if’ scenario,” she continued, more to herself than to him, “I would have only associated with Neville more as a fellow classmate than an actual friend. You met him first, and neither of us are outgoing people. I never would have talked to Luna. You  _ know _  how that interaction would have gone. I would have insulted her without even knowing it. _

_“I’ve told you this before… I only had my books before Hogwarts. They were my most sincerely my best and only friends, and until you, I thought they were all I ever needed. I don’t have any doubt that I’d be just like that today. But…Parvati and Lavender are… I really don’t know how to tell you this…”_

_“Your friends?” Harry guessed, scrunching his eyebrows._

_“Sometimes,” Hermione muttered to herself. “When they’re not annoying me. But… they themselves are… close friends.”_

_“Of course they are,” Harry said slowly. “They’re never apart.”_

_“I mean, ‘close’, Harry. Dumbledore and Grindelwald close.”_

_Harry made a face. “Oh. Terrible analogy. Good for them, I suppose. So they’re what? Dating?”_

_Hermione shook her head. “While they say that they aren’t, they’ve never dated anyone else. They started dating secretly beginning of last year, and since I’m their dorm mate, they decided to tell me first, to help them hide their secret. Marissa and Fay knows as well. They’ve probably been sleeping over in the Shrieking Shack the entire night. I told them it was a good place to… scream.”_

_Harry cocked their head to the side. “A year and a half-long secret? Hidden by the gossip queens of Hogwarts? Figures.” Harry tilted his head again, as if visually trying to see the point of this conversation from all angles. “So how does this relate to…? Oh.” He was silent for a moment. “Wow.”_

_ Her cheeks burned with shame. “No funny ideas, Harry. Let me explain first… though you’re not far from the truth. Since it’s not a secret in this dorm, they sometimes don’t bother with Silencing Charms. Apparently, I was the only one that never complained about the noise. Last year, they made me an offer.” She still couldn’t muster enough strength to look up at him. “If I wasn’t… I mean, if I never knew you… you see, I doubt I’d be their best friend in  _ any _  reality… but I can still appreciate…” _

_ “That they’re very attractive,” Harry smirked. “I’m beginning to regret our friendship, Hermione, if  _ this _  was a possibility for you.” _

_ The brunette witch stammered for a moment, finally looking up. “Harry! I… well, I’m not saying that I would have accepted their offer to – to  _ join _  them! I’m saying that it was a possibility!” _

_Harry shifted minutely on the bed. The same bed that Lavender and Parvati…_

_ He quickly got up and moved over to Hermione’s bed, his cheeks flushed. “Hermione, the fact that you’re considering it in  _ this _  reality means that you would have accepted.” _

_ “That’s not the point,” Hermione said quickly. “Or maybe it is. I don’t know. But what I  _ do _  know is I’ve never been… attracted to anyone. Maybe it was the fact that I’ve always been with you, and I’ve never paid attention to anyone else, but I’ve never really had fantasies about anyone but you since I hit puberty when I was thirteen.” She felt Harry grab her hand, encouraging her to continue. She needed it. “But after that day, I – I had a few more things to th-think about.” _

_He squeezed her hand. “Perfectly understandable. So, you’re telling me that you have some fantasies that you’ve never explored, and you’re thinking about it again, now that you have the perfect opportunity?”_

_Hermione expelled her breath, and nodded. “You’re smarter than I give you credit for, Harry.”_

_“You’re more conservative than I give you credit for,” Harry muttered. She looked up at him in surprise. “Hermione, you’re just as aware as I am that I was a very daft bloke when it came to romance and girls, at least until the beginning of fourth year. I approached you, and you turned me down. So why not take the offer from Parvati and Lavender?”_

_Hermione grimaced at the mention of her rejection of Harry. There was no malice in his voice, and that just made it hurt all the more for her. “I don’t know – punishing myself, maybe? Maybe I was holding up some false hope that you didn’t give a damn what I thought, break down the door, and take me – “_

_She gasped and covered her mouth. Harry’s jaw went slack. After a few seconds, his mouth started working again._

_“Well, that makes a lot of sense. You once had a fierce love for authority. Dominance, you might say.” He slowly pulled Hermione’s hand away from her mouth and tenderly kissed the knuckle. “The temptation was there, certainly. But in the end, I decided I could wait it out. And it paid off. Not the way that you expected, but…”_

_“Nice to see you’re making jokes at my misery,” she commented in a light tone, her face still a pinkish hue._

_“Of course not, ‘Mione. I’m just berating you for not shagging those two senseless.”_

_Hermione abruptly stood up, and dragged Harry along with her. “And now that the same opportunity arose for you, what are you going to do now?”_

_He looked particularly nervous to answer, and he had a passing thought that maybe he should summon back his armor. “Erm… make the right decision?”_

_Hermione smiled sweetly. “And what would the right decision be, Harry?”_

_“I should… ask you to make the decision?”_

_She laughed uproariously at his answer. When she was finally able to calm herself, she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Just let it happen, Harry. Finish your list. I’m still waiting to see that crash and burn I promised you, and I’ve rarely been wrong.”_

_“And if I add your name under my own name as a co-creator…” Harry drawled, smirking as Hermione swatted his shoulder._

_“You wouldn’t!”_

_“On the contrary; it brings a bit of legitimacy to the list a bit, don’t you think? Co-written by the smartest witch of our generation?”_

_ “You should have thought of having me co-write the list  _ before _  you put me as the first name  _ on _  the bloody list, Harry. Besides, I’m a bookworm; I’m not a particularly good judge on beautiful women.” _

_“And as you have just proved, Miss Granger, it’s always the quiet ones…” She blushed at his gaze and walked away, Harry catching up with her, as they went to the Great Hall for breakfast._

“I don’t think you’re in trouble, Harry,” Hermione muttered to her best friend encouragingly, rubbing his arm. While they weren’t going to publicly come out as a couple yet, they acted like the close friends they always were.

And Harry and Hermione had to admit, from an outsider viewing in, they were always quite close.

Harry nodded resolutely, and turned to the teacher in the front of the class, cleaning the papers off of her desk and into her briefcase.

“See you at lunch?” he muttered. Hermione nodded, understanding their secret message; he had just given her the option to stick around with the invisibility cloak or not.

“I had a big breakfast,” she replied, and she smirked when he groaned at the implication. He was on his own.

Hermione quickly grabbed hers and Harry’s books, and left the classroom; Harry watched her leave, mentally begging her to come back.

“Really, Mister Potter, I’m sure you could easily take me on by yourself,” Professor Black chuckled, watching the entire exchange.

Harry looked over to her and smiled nervously. “Sure, but not easily.”

She looked more than amused. “Why are you scared, Harry? Because of that list?”

He gulped. He was pretty sure, but the confirmation was still scary. “Maybe, Professor Black.”

“Narcissa,” she deadpanned. “Just because you think I’m angry at you, doesn’t mean you get to undo  _ months _  of training you to call me Narcissa. You’re  _ not _ going to compliment me by calling me beautiful, and immediately make me feel old.”

Harry leaned back on a desk, watching her carefully. “Sorry, Cissy.”

The blonde smirked. “See, if you wrote  _ that _  on your list,  _ then _  I’d be angry. Then I’d completely crack open that protective cup of yours, that I can only assume that you have summoned by now.”

He subconsciously squeezed his legs tighter and flushed.  _ She _  was the one that had recommended it, and the basilisk skin armor. “Not yet, no. I’ve been on edge lately. Since I started that list I’ve been getting  _ way _  too many positive reactions, and I’m bound to run out of luck soon.”

Cissy chuckled. “And you thought  _ I’d _  break that streak? I  _ should _  be offended.”

He shrugged. “Honestly? I thought the first two would break the streak. It’s getting a little scary, actually…”

“What’s happened so far?” She asked curiously, sitting back on her own oak desk. “And please use details, Mr. Potter.”

Harry shook his head. “Sorry; I don’t kiss and tell, Professor Black.”

“Kissing? Now I  _ must _  hear about it!” She almost squealed, and Harry had the urge to hide his blush in his hands. Narcissa paused. “Now, if you think I’m going to continue  _ that _  streak, then let me alleviate your fears now –  _ not _  going to happen.”

Harry laughed. “Thanks for the warning. Besides, after you threatened to hex off my bits, I don’t think I’d want to let you that close.”

“Like you’d turn me away if I wanted to  _ be _  that close, Harry,” she teased.

“It would be for the greater good. Besides, you have a reputation to keep up. Wouldn’t want to get caught in a predicament with the Golden Boy, would you?”

Narcissa scoffed. “Please. I was planning on breaking the news to my son over Christmas. Poor boy still thinks the Dark Lord may come back one day.” She flexed her right-hand fingers surreptitiously, showing off her new snake-skin gloves.

“So how does Nagini feel on you?” Harry asked rhetorically, grinning at her.

Narcissa looked away from the glove and focused on the wizard in front of her. “I know I’m not supposed to accept presents from students, but these are just  _ adorable _ , and they feel heavenly.”

“You deserve them,” Harry kicked the floor as he sat on the table. “I probably would have ignored the snake altogether if you didn’t find out about… well, you know.”

Narcissa nodded in understanding. Those stupid Horcruxes were literally the ultimate crux for her. She was the spearhead of the group that led to the termination of all of the Horcruxes; well, the research committee. She shuddered at the thought of doing the actual tasks.

While Hermione had done the research on the vessels that had the Horcruxes, and the bits of his soul themselves, Narcissa had discovered their existence, and had done the research of their locations. She was the curse-breaker for the protections around the locations, and using that key magical signature, she was able to more easily locate where the next Horcrux was, and even where Tom was at all times. For instance, the family ring in the Gaunt house, and its unique magical signature protecting that ring, led her to the Cave on the seaside, where the fake locket was located – luckily, she was also able to check if a Horcrux was there or not – There wasn’t, so she assumed correctly that it had been moved.

Still, it was truly Harry and Hermione that had done most of the work, though their close network of friends had all contributed in some way, her niece being one of them, her cousin being another.

“I wonder how Draco will take the news.” Harry wondered, picturing Draco getting the worst Christmas present ever.

“The news of me being involved with Voldemort’s death, or the fact that I’m flattered by my name on your list?” she smirked.

Harry shrugged innocently. “I have no qualms against him getting two presents this Christmas.” He refrained from adding that he wished it was his last. Draco really hadn’t been the same since after the incident with Hermione, but he was still annoying as all hell. Of course, his mother always kept him in check – she never bothered to keep that a secret, but made sure to claim that it was not proper Pureblood or Slytherin etiquette. She had done the same to the rest of his house, seeing as she was Head of Slytherin, and she was mostly successful. Harry was thankful for that, and it was one of the few reasons Harry let Draco live.

The others, however, were fair game, and she knew that. They would have their time one day.

“He deserves coal,” she muttered bitterly, and Harry laughed. “He wanted to kill you today, you know; more than usual, at least. He said it out loud this time. He went to me this morning and told me the news, and he was confused at my lack of a seething rampage of a reaction. I told him I would deal with you, and if you touched him, he would be one step closer to disownment.” She paused, frowning. “Harry, I know that down the road, if Draco doesn’t change his ways, then I’m afraid you’ll have no choice. I really tried raising him right, but his father wanted none of it – his son is his  _ clone _ . I can’t see a bit of me in him at all.”

He nodded. “That’s a good thing. When I finally do, because I doubt he’s ever going change, I don’t want to picture  _ you _  when I do it.”

She waved him away. “Picture me or don’t picture me; whichever is less painful for him.”

He nodded. He knew that she had just given him permission, if Draco ever stepped out of line. He almost wanted to ask how she would feel when that day came; she had said several times before that she never had much love for him, but he was still her son.

But she almost felt giddy when Hermione killed her ex-husband.

* * *

It was just after the Philosopher’s Stone had ‘gone missing’, and Professor Quirrell had escaped – Headmaster Dumbledore had been blamed for the entire incident and subsequently terminated by the Board of Governors. He had put up a fight, of course, but the decision wasn’t reversed.

When Narcissa Malfoy applied to be the new Potions Mistress, Headmistress McGonagall was faced with her first big decision. While Narcissa was more than qualified, Dumbledore had made it undeniably clear that Professor Snape was to keep his job. After a bit of consideration, she decided to move Severus to his dream profession – Defense Against the Dark Arts – and ultimately gave Mrs. Malfoy the position of Potions Mistress. Since Remus had just turned down the job offer of DADA professor, she felt that she had made the right move. Dumbledore had disagreed, but the decision still stood – she was the Headmistress after all, and his suggestions only went so far.

Mrs. Malfoy had applied for the job to keep tabs on the diary that had been slipped in the youngest Weasley’s bag by her husband, and had kept a close eye on her throughout the first semester. Several weeks into the semester – the night before Halloween – she carefully followed Ginny to the first floor girls’ toilets. When she saw the wall open up, she carefully retreated, her job done. She would investigate the wall later, for her own studies.

She had nothing against Muggle-borns, though she did see it as unfair that there were some people that were born with magic, and could interact with both worlds flawlessly. The Pure-bloods were stuck with their own small, inept communities and were ignorant of what was out there for them to discover. The Muggle-borns and Half-bloods literally had the best of both worlds, and while she had tried to venture out to a muggle shopping mall, or even a boutique, she always felt out of place, even though she had studied their customs from their library.

Even though she had the magic, Narcissa knew that her world was somehow the more mundane.

She pulled out a water bottle and began to drink; all that sneaking around made her parched. When her bottle was half-empty, she heard a small ‘meow’ and spotted a cat sitting in front of her, her yellow eyes piercing.

Narcissa was familiar with the patrolling cat, Mrs. Norris, and she scowled at the small animal. Filch had to be around somewhere, and that creepy bastard was just someone she didn’t want to deal with. But when no one came, she calmed. Mrs. Norris stayed sitting, staring up at her. Narcissa didn’t know what to do with the nosy cat, until she tried to take another sip, and saw her oval eyes follow the bottle slowly.

Feeling generous, now that her task was done, Narcissa tipped the bottle over and poured some water on the floor, making sure to look out for others. It gave her a calming effect, watching the cat lap at the water, thanking her with her yellow eyes. After watching her drink for a while, Narcissa had a devious idea. She slowly poured more water from the bottle, watching the cat back away from the growing puddle, but never losing her stride in drinking it.

She figured it that if she was nourishing Filch’s cat, then he should pay her back by cleaning up the mess.

The cat meowed in appreciation and Narcissa capped the empty bottle and sauntered away, pleased with her goodwill quota for the month.

And then the cat was petrified, still drinking the water, along with Mr. Filch, who was mopping up the puddle a few feet from her, staring hard into the water. Mrs. Malfoy was left scratching her head with confusion – she knew it had something to do with the diary, but what did Ginevra do?

Obviously, that mysterious entrance somehow led her to a basilisk. That much was clear. The Dark Lord was quite fond of snakes, as he could talk to them, according to her husband. And, now that she thought about it, the girl seemed to speak in a serpentine way as she opened the wall, speaking to the sink, instead of mindless whispering that she originally thought it was. And a basilisk was one of the few animals in the world that could petrify or kill, and the puddle’s reflection led to a petrifying. According to the message on the wall – “The Chamber of Secrets has been opened – Enemies of the heir, beware” written in blood, combined with Hagrid’s missing chickens – it was pretty simple putting the rest of the pieces together, having attended the school when it was a two decade-old fading rumor.

But how did the Weasley girl  _ control _  it? Would a basilisk really just take the commands of any person who could speak the language, or did the Dark Lord actually take over the body of the smallest Weasley? Did she just let it free? Narcissa shuddered at the thought. While the Dark Lord had prejudices, she doubted a snake would judge. She was sure each human had their own unique scent, and it probably could have been given commands out of gratitude since the girl had effectively freed the beast, it still worried her.

She considered telling the Headmistress, but immediately turned away the idea. She wasn’t stupid.

The very next day, she told McGonagall that there were twenty magical creatures in recorded history that had the power to petrify, and she would get started on studying them.

The next week, she went to Minerva’s office and they perused through her own research material for the Gorgon, and its magical effects. They had decided that it could not have done so, since the only way the creature could travel through the school without being noticed – pipes – was impossible for a Gorgon, as they would  _ never _  use such unclean methods of travel, and while there were many secret hallways in the school, there were paintings  _ everywhere _  for a reason. As it turns out, the mysterious beast, however many there were, could completely freeze the portraits like a simple muggle painting. Unfortunately for them, there was no known cure for that. They could be animated again, but they would return as a blank slate, no memories attached.

They decided to continue those secret meetings and brainstorm each animal, just in case it got any worse than Filch and his pet, and the six portraits.

Nine weeks later, when she was halfway through her weekly reports to the Headmistress, Severus confronted her. She revealed nothing – she was a Slytherin, after all – and he sneered that whatever she was up to, it would be wise not to stop it. Six weeks ago, Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor Muggle-born, had been petrified, staring through the lens of his now broken camera, all film destroyed. Two weeks previous, Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Hufflepuff Muggle-born, and Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor Ghost, were both petrified, and Severus was still very curious to see where this would lead. Narcissa now suspected that the snake knew exactly who to attack somehow, but she had already started her reveal, and it would be suspicious if she quit now. It wasn’t like McGonagall could do anything, when she  _ did _  find out about the basilisk. What would she do, close down the school? If she did, then she would certainly be terminated by the pureblood board of Governors, that her husband happened to be a part of, and replaced by Severus, who happened to be the new Deputy Headmaster. How he got that position, she had no idea. While she was quite enjoying her job as a professor, she wouldn’t exactly mourn the loss of it as she would inevitably be let go under his command.

The next week, as she prepared to gather her notes for the Basilisk – it would be much too odd to reveal it as the very last beast – Lucius had Dobby ask her to make an appearance in the Slytherin Common room – something about their son. He was too nervous to get any information out of him. Before she could reach out to Dobby, he quickly apologized and popped away. She found it odd – her elf knew that she would rather have him apparrate her than have to walk.

_And then she knew._

She quickly gathered her research material in a small bag, before throwing some green soot into her fireplace. She calmly told Minerva that it was a basilisk and that she would be there shortly, and before the Headmistress could respond, she closed the connection. She grabbed her pocket mirror before she left.

Classes were in session, so she waded through the halls quickly, using a mirror to look around each corner. She had no intention of going to McGonagall’s office, which she  _ could _  have done through the fireplace. She was going to stash her books by the gargoyle, and leave the school. She would have to extend her free period a little longer, unfortunately.

“Professor Malfoy?” A voice called out. Narcissa checked her compact and turned the mirror carefully, seeing no one.

“Reveal yourself,” she said stiffly, and she wasn’t sure if she was pleased or frustrated to see Harry Potter removing his Invisibility Cloak. “Mister Potter. Skipping class, are we?” She refrained from mentioning the illegal shawl. She shuddered to think if Draco discovered his rival had one of those. They were _ bloody _  expensive, and frankly, her son had not proved to her that he was trustworthy enough to have such a cloak.

Harry shook his head, glancing around. “Extra credit for McGonagall. Looking for the creature that’s petrifying everyone.”

She slowly turned around to face him, her left eyebrow arched. Harry sighed. He struggled for a moment, before looking over his shoulder, then back to her. “I hear things…  _ voices _ … saying that it must kill. In the walls. Every time it’s happened, there was an incident. I told Headmistress McGonagall, and she told me to alert her when I hear it again. This is the busiest hour of the week, so it’s the only time when the hallways are empty.”

Narcissa nodded, somewhat perplexed. “You mean to say – you’re a Parselmouth.”

He looked surprised for a moment, then nodded stiffly. “Yes. And you’re one of the very few people in this school that knows that.” He let that sink in for a moment. She knew that if that information leaked out, there would only be one obvious culprit. “It makes sense now that you say it. I only found out that what I have is a unique gift last year.” His tone took a more sinister one. “Basilisks were on the short list of creatures that Hermione and I believed were responsible. But somehow, you knew exactly what’s attacking the school.”

Narcissa held up her hands. “Easy, Mister Potter, I’m not a suspect here. I just told the Headmistress a few minutes ago that I was heading over there to give her my notes on the beast.” She held up her bag, something Professors usually didn’t walk around carrying. “I have reason to believe that it may be a Basilisk, and I think you can confirm it.”

“Then why are you not heading in that direction?” Harry interrogated further, stepping a bit closer. While he was only a second year, he was quite intimidating.

She paused.

Why  _ was _  she going in the opposite direction? Yes, she was distracted, but she knew and remembered more about this castle than anyone she had attended school with. If she had actively tried to get lost, she would know where she was.

And she knew where she was right now. She was pretty close to the Hospital Wing. And just like that, it all made sense. She was going to go kidnap her new friend – to steal her from the clutches of the monster, ensuring that the beast didn’t attack her again. But Narcissa Malfoy would never say that out loud.

She thought quickly. “I’m collecting my son, of course. I believe he has Charms right now with the Ravenclaws. I’m not keeping him in the school with a Basilisk on the loose.” She was lucky that Flitwick’s classroom was close by as well. She had no intentions of picking up her son – Lucius wouldn’t kill his heir.

“He deserves it,” he muttered, clearly loud enough for her to hear, and she surprised him by chuckling.

“Your rivalry with him amuses me,” She admitted, closing her mirror. “It’s somewhat embarrassing to see you upstage him at every confrontation, yet he approaches you as if he’s your equal rival. Tell me the truth here, Mister Potter; is my Draco a mere nuisance to you?”

Harry rubbed the back of his head, but he looked far from embarrassed. “It’s really not his fault. I mean, sure, if I didn’t have giant beasts on my tail, I might have seen him as a threat, but he’s not a  _ Basilisk _ . He’s just a bug that I wouldn’t bother stepping on.” He smirked. “Not that I’m trying to sound arrogant, of course.”

Narcissa laughed. “Of course,” she replied, her perception of the Golden Boy of Gryffindor breaking apart. She held the bag closer to herself, and she remembered why she was here. It was time to change that plan slightly. “Would you like to accompany me to McGonagall’s office? You need a mirror with you.”

Without a thought, Harry pulled out his wand and conjured a small mirror. Narcissa didn’t comment on the nonverbal magic, but was impressed nevertheless. Harry stared hard at her. She seemed to know what he expected.

“I won’t say a word.” Narcissa promised. “Besides, if my son found out, he’d cry himself to sleep, and frankly, I don’t want to go back to those days. Well, do you need an escort anyway? Buddy system and all…”

Harry nodded his appreciation. “I could use an extra set of eyes,” he agreed, and they began walking to the Headmistress’s office. At the first corner, Narcissa used her mirror.

“More like a shield,” Mrs. Malfoy muttered, as they walked down the hallway, her in the lead. When Harry made to move in front of her, she gently put her arm in front of him. “Boy-Who-Lived or not, I’m still your professor.  _ I’m _  supposed to protect  _ you _ .”

“I haven’t felt very  _ safe _  since I got to this school,” Harry muttered, and before Narcissa could question him, he froze. “It’s here.”

“Go to McGonagall,” she muttered darkly, looking around for the slightest move.

“I’m not – “

“Go, Potter,” she hissed, thrusting her bag in his hands. “If I don’t look directly at it, nothing will happen to me,” she lied. “Bring McGonagall back here, but be wary. When I see it, I’ll shout. You obviously have good ears, because I can’t even hear a whisper yet. I will lead the beast elsewhere. Follow the sound of my voice when I stop screaming, and we’ll all come out of this fine.  _ Go _ !”

Harry paused, and against his better judgment, turned and ran the direction they were coming from, signifying that the beast was in the direction they were supposed to be going.

Narcissa let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She knew he was a very bright kid. His grades were almost on par with his friend, the great Hermione Granger, and she had sworn that he was going to see right through her bluff, even though he had a very limited knowledge on Basilisks, other than they were large snakes that petrified with a gaze.

Well, the plan was changed slightly, yet again. It looked as if she was going to be petrified today. The Basilisk had clearly tracked her down, and it wasn’t going to stop until she had left the school. She wasn’t going to risk students’ lives by hiding in a classroom. She was too far to double back to her chambers, and much too far from the outside. Besides, in a deserted outside, she wasn’t even positive that the beast wouldn’t follow her until she reached Hogsmeade. And she wasn’t going to follow Potter – she, as a professor, leading him somewhere was one thing, but actually being seen helping the boy would put a death sentence on her head long after today.

She grimaced. Yes, she was going to be petrified.

But… what then? Lucius was quite plainly aware that she knew there was a basilisk behind it all. He was counting on her finding a way to get petrified instead of dying. Was he teaching her a lesson? Before, she could give less of a damn about his intent, but now… was he really that methodical? She was expecting that he wanted it to kill her. But he knew how smart she was… so what was his game? Kill her petrified body himself? Take it and hide it? If a well-respected pureblood witch was found dead or petrified in the halls, the school would close faster than she could drop.

So… yes, that made sense. Kill her, hide the body; everyone would assume that  _ she _  was the heir of Slytherin, working in the shadows from this point on. It would make sense – her first cousin and sister being the infamous Sirius Black and Bellatrix Lestrange.

She heard a small whisper, and a distinct hiss, but she stood her ground. It would be unwise of her to panic  _ now _ .

Narcissa grimaced. Her husband was so incredibly  _ stupid _ . There was never just one route to one place in this school – hence Potter running the opposite direction to the Minerva’s office – and Lucius had assumed that she was going to take the easiest route to the Slytherin Common Room, blindly trusting her _ dear husband  _ to not have an unfortunate accident prepared on the way. He had no guarantee that he would be the first to find her, especially if she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, now on the other side of the school. He had essentially ruined his own plans. Not only that, but he had unintentionally connected himself to this case, seeing as he was visiting the school the same day his wife was attacked, delivering a bag of information to the Headmistress on the threat to the school. He had probably visited the littlest Weasley himself and blackmailed her into ordering the Basilisk to track her scent – probably a hairbrush from her chambers or something – and thought nothing of it afterwards, his only remaining task comprising of making sure she was at the right place at the right time.

She was smarter than him. She knew that, and he struggled to accept that. But while her husband had her cornered, she would give him one last message that she was superior to him in every conceivable way – her last act of defiance to him.

She quickly pulled out her wand and compact mirror.

She scowled. It would be so easy to just cast a sonorous charm and alert the school to her imminent demise. But she knew the hell she would pay, not from her husband, but the rest of the Pureblood community. At least they couldn’t attack her this way. She rolled up her sleeve and cast a charm on her arm. She grimaced in pain at the words etching itself into her once flawless arm.

She pocketed her wand and held the compact mirror in her trembling hand, still unopened. She grasped it tightly to herself, the cool metal trying to calm her burning nerves, until she banished it wordlessly.

Narcissa smiled to herself at the small victory; she had finally done wandless magic.

Harry had left only thirty seconds ago, but it felt like an eternity as she waited for her impending doom. She scratched her sweltering arm absently. She was a patient woman; she had proved that when she married Lucius. She wanted wealth and infinite materials for research, and he wanted a trophy wife that would provide him an heir. After they both got what they wanted, they left each other alone, and she was almost perfectly content with that.

And as she turned around to face an empty hallway, Narcissa just wished she could see the look on his face when he realized that she had so critically beaten him in a game that probably took weeks for him to plan, in just a few seconds.

She put the fate of what was to happen next in young Harry Potter’s hands, confident that he’d find her first. For some reason, she felt no need to worry about that.

As the large serpent’s head rounded the corner, completely silent, Narcissa smiled.

_‘The Queen of Slytherin – Forevermore.’_

* * *

“Hello, Professor. Welcome back to the world of the living.”

Narcissa slowly blinked her eyes, and saw Hermione Granger standing above her. Something went terribly wrong. Or terribly right. “How… Miss Granger? Where am I?”

“Right now, you’re in a secret room, that’s decided to take the form of the Slytherin Common Room, I assume, for this evening. I must say, it looks a bit drab, if not a bit pricey looking furniture…”

Ah. So terribly good, then. Her head ached with the speed of her thought process. “It’s the Malfoy Manor Sitting Room,” she muttered, closing her eyes again.

“That explains the Chandelier,” she reasoned, and she seemed very pleased with herself – not that Narcissa could see. “Thank you for the dying message on your arm, by the way.  _ ‘Ginevra’s Diary.’ _  Harry and Headmistress McGonagall have gone to collect the diary right now. Don’t worry; she has no idea of your previous demise. The official story is when you were on your way to McGonagall’s office, a crying Ginny ran into you and told you that she did some very bad things. I heard that your husband was visiting today, and I’m guessing that he arranged this?”

Her brain began to stop hurting, but the pieces were still being fitted together. “So… I’m alive… and I was  _ dead _ ?” She cracked an eye open, and Hermione nodded the affirmative. And her thoughts ended there. She was completely lost.

Hermione took pity on her. “Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone would have guessed how we brought you back. Didn’t have to kill anyone – well, not for this, specifically, but Harry had to kill Quirrell last year for us to ultimately be here today.” She held up a large, intimidating syringe. “You probably don’t know what this is, but it’s harmless. It helps introduce liquids into the body, usually the bloodstream. Works faster than ingestion, and as you’ve probably noticed, the only method of taking the liquid through death, while using a spell that artificially pumps the blood. Your heart has been beating independently for about half an hour now. My parents usually use it for Procaine – they’re dentists, you see – but in this instance, it brought you back to life. We had to heal the writing on your arm, though. Fascinating spell you used, to avoid the vein and arteries.”

“But… what could possibly bring me to life?” She groggily asked, blinking out the sleep in her eyes. “And how long have I been… dead?”

“Only about an hour,” Hermione smiled softly at the professor. “And I think I gave you enough hints that you figured it out by now. Harry and I had managed to liquefy the Philosopher’s Stone this past summer. Thank you for being our first test subject. It might be too early to say, but I think that barring any more accidents, due to the liquid flowing in your bloodstream, there is a possibility that you are immortal.”

**~Original Conversation, 5th Year~**

“While I may have the advantage of being forever youthful,” Narcissa changed the subject to the main topic, smirking at her young friend, “I don’t think I can be called one of the most beautiful in the school.”

Harry almost snorted. “Really? I thought you were one of the smartest in your generation?”

Her eyebrows rose. “One of them? I had  _ the highest scores _  of my Generation, only challenged by your mother. Respect is appreciated, Potter.”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry smirked. “Or should I say Mistress.”

Narcissa shrugged. “‘Mistress’ will suffice, thank you. Once again,  _ ma’am _  makes me feel old.  _ Madame _  is okay. Occasionally I will be referred to as ‘The Immortal Lady Black’, but only at my discretion.”

“Fair enough,” Harry agreed seriously. “Least I could do for saving your life.”

Narcissa waved it off. “Should’ve thought about that before you saved my life.”

The two laughed. Never in a million years, would he ever guess that a laugh so beautiful would come from the mother of Draco Malfoy. He calmed himself enough to ask, “Well, if you aren’t mad at me -”

“I’m not,” She said honestly.

“Then why did you ask me to stay after class? Right now you’ve got Hermione thinking thoughts she really shouldn’t right now.” She flushed.

“I didn’t mean to make you two uncomfortable,” she stressed, hopping off her table. “While I did keep you here to thank you, it’s not like I’m going to shag your brains out in appreciation.”

Harry didn’t know whether to be relieved or just a bit disappointed. Granted, he was happy that her intentions were pure, as they always were, he’d come to realize years ago. But… well, she wasn’t put on the list purely for her personality and smarts, though those were important factors as well.

“If anything, I’d do it because you want me to, not because of some stupid list.” Harry looked up at her in shock. “It’s called a Life Debt, Harry. If you ever want to finally collect that debt, and use it for  _ that _ … well, I can think of a way so you won’t waste it on something so… obtainable.”

Harry blinked a few times. “Hermione gave you the injection, though.”

Narcissa shook her head. “It doesn’t matter who gave me the injection, what matters is the person who found me and supplied the Stone to begin with.”

“Both of us,” Harry smiled. “And you’ve more than repaid us, Cissy. None of this would’ve been possible without you.”

Narcissa smiled. “So noble, Harry. It’s something you really need to work on. That could be considered a weakness.”

“I only show that to my friends,” Harry said seriously. “You’re my friend, Narcissa; don’t forget that.”

“And I couldn’t have a better one,” She said sincerely, “Hermione as well. It’s good to have you two back in class, Harry. My niece has been looking for you to visit the outside. You haven’t left the building in a while, have you?”

Harry shook his head. “I guess we have been rather… dormant.” She saw Narcissa’s devilish grin and cut her off. “Not like that! In our own dorms!”

“That’s a waste,” she muttered, her fantasies shattered. “The two of you still haven’t figured it out yet?”

Harry was hesitant to speak.

“It took us long enough, didn’t it?”

Narcissa let out a girlish squeal as Hermione appeared out of nowhere. “ _ Miss Granger! _  Five points from Gryffindor!”

Hermione look amused as she absently folded the cloak. “For what? Scaring the piss out of you?”

Narcissa calmed her beating heart. She breathed deep. “Almost; if you had actually done that, there would be a  _ hell _  of a lot more points taken. But, we’ll just settle for you scaring me.”

Hermione smiled. “Worth it.”

“How many points will it take  _ not _  to be  _ worth it? _ ” She wondered, and Hermione’s smile faltered. Narcissa then recalled what she said earlier. “So you two finally did it? When’s the wedding?”

Harry pretended to be very interested in the décor or the room, and Hermione glared at him for abandoning her to answer the question. He smirked. “You don’t want to hear my reply, Hermione.” When she was still silent, he looked back to Narcissa. “As soon as I finish my supposed  _ conquests _ . Hermione’s convinced that I need to shag half the school before I can enter a steady relationship.”

“Harry!” she screeched, mollified at his words. “That is  _ not _  what I said!”

“Well,” Narcissa broke the silence after a moment, “what did you say?”

Hermione struggled to find the right words. “I- I erm… I don’t know, really. I mean what with Padma and Katie so far, it really looks like Harry is finally realizing that there…I don’t know how to say this.”

“That there are  _ options _ ,” Harry finished for her. Hermione didn’t move. “‘Mione, remember when you said I’m smarter than you give me credit for?”

Hermione nodded. When Harry said nothing, just looking at her expectantly, she was a bit lost. “What, Harry?”

Narcissa chuckled. “He doesn’t want to say it out loud.”

Hermione looked at her for a moment, before realization dawned. Her eyes widened. “But… I – it’s true! How could  _ you _  think that I’m  _ dumber _  than you give me credit for?!”

Harry glared at her. “You don’t think I know that I have options? Hermione, I get  _ thousands _  of letters a year! I get  _ pictures _ !  _ Worn _  bras and panties! You wouldn’t  _ believe _  the things that Hedwig and the elves have had to deliver! While I’m busy spending the entire day with  _ you _  that day each year, Tonks has to sift through the  _ hundreds _  of  _ animated _  Valentine’s Day cards!”

Narcissa gave an unladylike snort. “That’s why the poor girl takes the day off from her duties every Valentine like she has a hot date.”

Hermione looked embarrassed. Harry continued. “Hermione, you’re my best friend, and I’ve made it a habit to always tell you the honest truth. So here it is: while there are consequences for being Harry Potter, there are quite a few perks, and I love  _ most _  of them. The fame, I could do without. The adulation, I appreciate. The fangirls? It’s quite flattering, but that’s something I’ve never taken advantage of. A part of me has always wanted to, but that’s just not who I am. I don’t want to be like Lockhart.”

Narcissa snorted quietly. It was her honest opinion that the git got what he deserved a couple of years ago.

“I’m not daft, Hermione. I know that I’m one of the most sought after wizards in the world. I knew that when I found out how much gold I had in my vault.” He stepped closer to her, and she found herself shrinking. “I don’t use you as a  _ shield _  – deep down, I know you think that. You are  _ not _  the girl that keeps me safe from the scary ladies out there, while I deal with puberty, my  _ safety net _ , the homely girl that I can always come home to when I ‘inevitably’ take advantage of my fame and do one-night stands across Britain. Don’t mistake my humility for naivety, Hermione.”

Hermione’s eyes were shining as Harry held her hands in his. “I can understand why you’d think so. A guy with my life – why not take advantage of it? I’d be stupid  _ not _  to do so. Anyone in my situation would. Hell, maybe in some other life, I would.” He paused. For a moment, Hermione thought he was truly realizing what he said, reconsidering his words. Then he spoke. “In fact, I probably would have. But then something happened. Something I could never put a finger to, until  _ right now _ .”

Hermione fidgeted as Harry stepped closer, her mind blank until he finished his thoughts, having no clue where he was going with this. “You’re not my safety, Hermione. You’re  _ my only _ . The greatest perk of being Harry Potter is that I can proudly say that Hermione Granger fell for me. Every single thing I said yesterday is true. I was waiting for you. I thought it was just fourth year, but no, a part of me always was. Because  _ I love you, Hermione _ .”

Harry’s chest felt tight as he said the words. He really wasn’t feeling any better when Hermione didn’t say anything. He let go of her hands carefully, and pulled her into a loose hug.

It was only a few seconds, when she responded. At first, he barely noticed when she slowly wrapped her arms around his torso. Then she pressed firmly into him, her hug turning into her patented Hermihug, her arms firmly locked around his waist, her hands indenting themselves into his back.

“You know I love you, Harry,” she whispered to him. “I always will. And I know that what you’re telling me is true. If you truly want me, then you’ve  _ always _ had me.” She loosened her grip, and took a good look at him. “But you’re wrong. There was never a part of me that thought I was your safety net. You wouldn’t do that to me, you wouldn’t do that to anyone. Not intentionally. Though there were times when I thought your humility was overwhelming. That one day, you’re going to realize that there is so much out there in the world, and it could’ve been yours,  _ easily _ .” When Harry was about to protest, she shook her head. “Now I know that you were always aware. And you  _ still _  chose me in the end. And  _ I love you _  for that. I truly do.”

Narcissa softly cleared her throat, and the two remembered they weren’t alone. “If I may?” She asked awkwardly, and the two nodded, embarrassed. “I’m not a psychologist, but I think I see the problem here. Hermione’s a secret lesbian, and Harry’s a very horny wizard.” As the two was about to protest, she cut them off. “Hermione, you have Harry, and yet you want him to see what’s out there. You’re a smart girl, Hermione. If Harry wants you, you shut up and  _ keep _ him, making sure that you improve yourself every day with the things that you do to keep him happy and satisfied. At least, that’s what I’d do, if I ever had a man  _ worth _  fighting for. You’re his best friend, and you know how loyal he is – he’d be perfectly content with whatever you had to offer.

“You clearly like the idea of Harry having a group of girls, as opposed to just you. You said it yourself – you knew you were never a shield. You aren’t afraid of him choosing someone else – you’re afraid of not being involved, or even worse, him not coming back to you.

“And  _ you _ , Harry! There was a  _ reason _  you started this list in the first place! You’re not a social person, right? You don’t make friends, you run into them, or they run into you. I’m sorry, but that’s just who you are, and what you’re accustomed to. That list is your conversation starter! Whatever happened with Padma or Katie would  _ never _  have happened if not for that list, am I right? For all I know, you probably never would have approached them again.”

She paused. “Honestly, I won’t judge you. What you did, was purely unintentional, but truly worthy of Slytherin. Harry Potter publicly stating who the top ten most beautiful women in his world are? Anyone can only  _ guess _  what’s going to happen next!” She raved, and Harry’s face burned.

Hermione bit her lip. “That does make sense… Harry?” She turned to him with a purely curious expression.

“When you put it like that…” Harry muttered, and she chuckled.

Narcissa deflated. “I’m sorry, Harry. I know you didn’t mean to. But you forget that you’re the boy-who-lived, and a very loveable guy to boot. Women will trip over themselves trying to  _ impress _  you. With this list, a very pleasurable or painful outcome should commence. One of those options is unavoidable.”

The couple parted reluctantly, absorbed in their thoughts.

“So what now?” Harry asked. “So far, I have a date with Padma three days from now. I’m telling her about Hermione before we go to Hogsmeade. I won’t get around that. With Katie… well, something tells me that she will take the news easier than Padma might.”

Narcissa refrained from mentioning Padma’s obvious heritage and the Patil family’s history with Harems. Padma would tell him herself if she wanted him to know. Hermione got the cue from Narcissa, and stayed quiet.

Harry smirked. “I’m aware she’s Indian, ladies. Once again – not daft. I just want her opinion on the matter, not her history’s opinion. She could be arranged for someone for all I know.”

The two blushed at being caught, while Hermione cleared her throat. “Yes, well… onto a somewhat less embarrassing topic… so Padma stole your first kiss?”

“I don’t see how that is any less embarrassing, but yeah.” He eyed her carefully. She didn’t seem too upset. But, he  _ had _  given her the option, once upon a time.

“And…” Hermione hesitated to ask, “Katie stole your first  _ motor boating _ ?”

Harry snorted. “Well, I didn’t exactly make sputtering sounds when she was crushing my face with her breasts!”

Narcissa perked up at his words. “Oh? How was it?”

“Wonderful,” he said unabashedly.

“So much for no kissing and telling,” Narcissa chuckled, and Harry smirked devilishly.

“What? Like you’re  _ not _  thinking of joining the club?” He said bravely, and she stared at him seriously, seeing the challenge in his eyes.

“I could call your bluff, Harry,” She whispered, crossing her arms.

Harry’s eyes almost drifted to her heaving bosom, being lifted by her arms. “Yes, you could,” He agreed. “And you will.”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow.

Hermione, for the life of her, couldn’t find this confrontation uncomfortable yet. She stood to the side to watch what was to come next.

“You think I can’t call your bluff, Harry?” Narcissa stepped forward, and Harry forced himself not to gulp. The blonde woman was no Veela, but she had an allure that affected him more than Fleur at full blast ever could. “I already promised you that I wouldn’t… shall we say…  _ surrender _  to you because of some stupid list.”

“Then that means Cissy’s got a crush,” he smirked.

Narcissa laughed as she approached him. “Such a  _ Slytherin _ , you are,” She purred, mere feet away from him. She stopped. “Come closer, Harry. I won’t do all the work. The Immortal Lady Black won’t stoop that low.”

Harry chuckled. “Who said anything about stooping low? I mean, I’ll make sure your water bowl is the fanciest, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, such a  _ rich _  sense of humour!” She cried, trying not to break into laughter. “Innocent little Golden Boy Harry, having the Queen of Slytherin, his most hated mortal enemy’s mother on her hands and knees, drinking out of a water bowl.”

Hermione subconsciously rubbed her thighs together. Harry, having glanced every-so-often to see how she was doing, raised the bar. “I hope you’re not too fond of  _ clothes _  or anything, Cissy. I assume the  _ Queen of Slytherin _  would not like to dirty them on the floor.”

“I like it when a man plans ahead,” she commented with a wry smile. “So you’re going to keep calling me that, now? Cissy? Like a pet?”

Harry thanked his growth spurt as his five inches above her gave him an advantage. “Well, you’re not housebroken yet. I suppose it’s up to Hermione if I can keep you, then.”

Narcissa looked over to Hermione and winked. “So I have to talk to the Alpha, first?” She swiftly changed directions, striding gracefully to where Hermione stood, stock still.

It took a few microseconds for her to gather her wits. “Alpha?” She wondered. “Your leader?” She quickly clarified.

Harry nodded. “Your idea,” he pointed out. “And one day… well, you know. I need a Mrs. Potter to have concubines.”

Hermione couldn’t believe her ears. “So we’re really doing this?”

Narcissa, not one to state the obvious, turned back, took the last few steps to Harry, tilted his head down by his chin, and pressed her lips to his. Harry was quick to grab her firm hips and pull her closer. She took a shuddering breath as he parted her lips moments later, dominating the kiss. She really  _ did _  get turned on by domination. While the ‘pet’ scenarios were way too much… she could get used to  _ this _ .

Harry abruptly cut off the kiss, and Narcissa caught herself as she was leaning in for more. Before she could comprehend it, she found herself gently pushed into Hermione’s arms.

Hermione didn’t think – she only kissed her. She had always thought of Narcissa a sexy witch – a witch that was older than her mother, but still a  _ very _  sexy, beautiful witch – and she quickly fulfilled a fantasy that she had found for over a year.

Harry watched on with unlimited fascination. He had noticed Narcissa’s easy submission while they were snogging, and saw her quickly bending to Hermione’s will as well.

And as Hermione tenderly touched Narcissa’s breasts through her robes, correctly guessing where her nipples were, he knew that this was only the beginning. He had the sense to cast a charm on the double doors leading into the classroom, making the doors disappear and morph into the surrounding wall. He banished his robe and his basilisk skin armor off of him, leaving only his school clothes.

Hermione slowly parted her lips from Narcissa’s, and looked over to Harry, while Narcissa looked a bit dazed, her lips slightly red. She nodded, and Harry took that as his cue to step closer. They did a bit of silent communication, before Harry gave Hermione a peck on the lips. It was not meant to be passionate – it was a kiss of thanks, and encouragement. Hermione, being almost the same height as Narcissa, easily handled her as she attached her lips to her neck. Her moan did things to her that she had never experienced before.

Harry focused into Narcissa’s eyes. The older witch did not seem to be available for conversation – she wasn’t exactly drooling, but she was close. Harry quickly stepped behind her, and taking a page from Hermione’s book, he focused on her neck.

Narcissa shuddered from the double assault. She felt Hermione’s trembling hand against her zipper, and quickly covered it with her own. Before the brunette could ask, she slowly pulled her hand down, the zipper coming with it.

Harry heard the sound, and smiled on her neck. Now it was time to show a bit of possessiveness. He began to suck hard on the skin, nipping and licking at one spot. The older witch in front of him obviously knew what he was doing, and craned more of her neck towards him. He took full advantage of it, before he reached around her stomach and wandered over her rib area, lightly tickling her. He wondered how long it would take the sensitive witch to lose control without any of her erogenous zones being touched. When he felt Hermione’s fingers touch his own inside the robe, he knew she was having the same idea.

Narcissa was having trouble standing as she was over-stimulated. She had never before been stimulated before by a man, and a very long time ago had she been touched by two horny teenagers at once; though her new lovers were proving to her now that she had waited for too long when she felt Hermione’s fingers skim up her sides to her shoulders, but held back a whimper as her breasts were still carefully avoided.

Hermione could tell how massive the older witch’s breasts were, and knew that Harry would be very pleasantly surprised. The black bra underneath the blouse was ornately decorated and supremely comfortable, and she hoped to get her out of it soon. She found her hands at Narcissa’s shoulders, and without warning, shoved the robe down.

She was wearing a simple white blouse and a knee-length black skirt, the recommended regulation dress code for female professors. While not enforced, it was highly advised.

Hermione was very sure that a see-through blouse was not part of the dress code, and she didn’t care in the slightest. She slowly began unbuttoning the blouse, careful to not let her fingers brush over Cissy’s breasts. She wanted Narcissa to beg for it, and to be that much more grateful when it happened.

Harry had the same thoughts as he finally released Cissy’s neck. He smirked in pride at the hickey forming – it was small but very noticeable. He prized it for a few more moments, absently caressing her lovely hips, before his hands lowered and at the bottom hem of her skirt.

Narcissa felt a little shock at Harry’s fingers on her bare legs, she was so focused on the cold air blowing against the love mark on the back of her neck. Hermione seemed determined to unbutton her blouse as slow as she possibly could, making sure to pull each button before loosening it. The soft silk rubbed across her breasts pleasurably, but Harry’s hands were her only stimulant at the moment.

She was keenly aware what they were doing, but she wanted to let them go at their pace. She had, on occasion, teased herself in her private sessions before, and she had magnificent orgasms that way. She had a low threshold when it came to patience in her bed, however, so she would only wait until she perceived that she couldn’t take it anymore, then take care of herself.

Harry growled low in his throat when his fingers felt the soft, smooth flesh of Narcissa. He was purely running on instinct, and when he crept higher up her skirt, he knew he was doing something right when he heard her slow moan of pleasure. His pants felt increasingly tight, grateful now that the protective cup was out of the way, but it would have to wait. They had time.

When Hermione finally got past the last button, she stared in awe for a good few seconds. The bra looked comfortable enough, encasing the massive mammaries. While they weren’t spectacularly huge, they were certainly larger than her frame suggested. Some part of her wished that she could grow a pair of those one day. Her mother’s frame suggested that she was well on her way.

No, she decided. She wouldn’t want back problems resulting from the strain, and she prized herself for her mobility. She figured she would work with what she had right at that moment.

But first, she smashed her lips to Narcissa, who quickly reciprocated. Hermione’s tongue quickly overpowered hers, and the blonde quickly got lost in her submission. She tried to make up for it by slowly grinding her own breasts into the still-robed witch’s tits, the fabric from her bra making her almost purr, before Hermione halted her with her hands on her shoulders. Before she could complain, one of her gloved hands was grabbed and placed on a still-clothed breast.

Harry inwardly smiled at the small moan of encouragement from both witches as he placed Cissy’s hand on Hermione’s breast. It was clear that she had banished her own Basilisk armor away; he had guessed correctly how far along she wanted to go. He unzipped Narcissa’s skirt quickly, and it pooled around her ankles. Harry stared at her perfectly formed legs with a sense of wonder, before his fingers traced over them  _ agonizingly _  slowly, and only after he heard a low moan – from Hermione or Narcissa, really he could not pay much attention to that at this point – he traced the edges of her black lace panties. She wasn’t intending to dress sexily, but to Harry, she might as well have been wearing extravagantly sewn dental floss.

Her large, pale bum was an outstanding feature on her, and he thought it a crime that it wasn’t shown off more. Her ass on her frame was nowhere near her breasts’ proportions – he couldn’t balance a glass on it or anything – but it was still quite impressive. If anything, it fit her body perfectly. He found a freckle – what seemed to be the only flaw on her body – and before he even realized what he was doing, he dropped to his knees and kissed it.

Narcissa squeaked at the contact, causing Hermione to break the kiss. She looked past her to Harry’s position, and as she saw him trailing his fingers around her legs, lightly kissing and nipping at random places on the lower half of her body, she decided that she should focus on the top half. She concentrated, and Narcissa’s blouse disappeared.

Before she could even shudder at the cool air hitting her body, Narcissa felt Hermione’s hands snake around her torso and attack the hooks on her bra. She quickly let go of Hermione’s breasts and concentrated as hard as she could.

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed as she was divested of her robe and her school clothes.

Harry craned his head around Narcissa’s bottom to see what Narcissa had done to cause that noise, and gaped.

She was  _ beautiful _ . Her hard, toned, porcelain-skinned body was generously on display, the sin that were school robes now outlawed and shunned in Harry’s mind. Her breasts were perfect, the size of cantaloupes, he guessed, but he couldn’t really tell; her white bra was still on.

The room was very still. What were once the soft sounds of moans, groans, whimpers and heavy breaths, now lingered in the air as mere, soft echoes. Harry stood slowly, careful not to break the silence. His eyes struggled to fixate on the aristocratic beauty that was Narcissa and the goddess that was Hermione. And he waited. He knew that whatever Hermione chose to do next, would set the course for the entire afternoon.

Hermione breathed slowly. She knew she was with two people she loved and trusted, and she had gone too far with them – she didn’t want to back out now. She wouldn’t be Hermione Granger if she did.

With a steely resolve, and pinkened cheeks, she reached back to the clasp on her bra and deftly unhooked it. Before anyone could stop her if they wanted to (and they didn’t), she shrugged the bra off.

Seconds after the offending fabric hit the floor, Narcissa quickly joined her in becoming topless, banishing her shirt and bra. She fought the urge to cover her bare tits. She wasn’t ashamed of the slight sag – they were much firmer than any witch at her permanent age of thirty-nine – but they had only been seen most recently by Lucius and Draco, and both times were shortly after her son’s birth. It had been over fourteen years since a man had seen her nude body, and now she was baring almost all of her to two teenagers; not to mention she was staring at what she could only describe as the perfect female body.

Narcissa stepped out of her skirt and kept her snakeskin boots on, ripping off her matching gloves and throwing them to the side. Though she had only taken three steps, Harry watched her tantalizing ass sway for what seemed like minutes. Quickly shaking his head out of his stupor, Harry quickly unloosened his tie, and shed himself of his dress shirt.

“Beautiful,” Narcissa whispered as she slowly lifted her hands to Hermione’s breasts, giving her ample time to stop her. When she began tracing the generous C-cups with the tip of her fingernail, Hermione winced and shuddered at the overly intense feeling of the almost tickling sensation. She also found herself staring at Narcissa’s well-formed tits, and began shamelessly groping them.

The two witches were tired of kissing. They were ready to explore beyond that.

Cissy almost gasped in shock when Harry wrapped his arms around her, and his fingers slowly rose to cup her breasts joining Hermione’s. She shuddered as they both went through the ‘funbags’ stage – he squeezed and massaged lightly, she circled her nipples and focused her index fingers on her areolas, and he flicked her hardened, pale pink nipples. She knew she was practically leaking down her legs, and she tried her best to focus on Hermione, rather than dropping her panties and fingering herself right there in front of them.

Eventually, she lost the battle, and one of her hands left Hermione’s breasts to slide her hand down the front of her own black panties.

Harry saw what she was doing, and quickly pulled her hand out. The older witch was confused, until she saw him wrap his red and gold striped tie around her arm. She whimpered when he tied both arms behind her back.

Harry nodded at his work as he saw her twitching hands. He knew she wasn’t trying to get out of the tie, she could stop them whenever she wanted to. With that thought in mind, he picked her up and out of Hermione’s grasp, and before his best friend could protest, Harry quickly carried her over to her large oak table and set her down, her back on the desk, legs dangling over the edge. He turned back to Hermione, and they caught each other’s glance.

Hermione, knowing what was expected of her, walked over to Harry, her breasts jiggling unintentionally. When she was close enough, Harry tipped her chin and gave her a tender kiss, which she quickly reciprocated, leaning against his chest.

As Harry and Hermione snogged over her dazed form, Narcissa felt herself getting hotter than before. She felt Harry rubbing her leg slowly, and Hermione quickly joined him with the other leg.

The beautiful couple parted, and they looked in each other’s eyes.

“You’re amazing,” He murmured, love in his eyes.

“Don’t forget that,” Hermione smiled softly. “But right now, we have our first Harem girl to initiate.”

Harry gave her one last kiss, and they turned as one to her heaving form, wearing only her boots and her panties. Narcissa held back the urge to shudder under their gaze, and failed.

Hermione quickly moved around the table, away from her line of sight. Before she could crane her head, Harry had dropped to his knees in front of her. He felt around her luscious thighs, and noticed that she was a bit ticklish, but didn’t bother taking advantage of it yet, merely filing it away. He tentatively licked at different areas, taking into account which places she moaned and which places she giggled. Her practically glowing skin felt so unrealistically smooth. There must have been charms for shaving.

He paused at the thought, and peeked upwards to her black panties. The thin material had an obvious wet spot, and was clinging very prominently to her plump vulva. He could tell very clearly that she was completely shaved, and he found himself licking his lips. He had never done this before, and while Sirius had briefly given him The Talk, in a way that only Sirius could – it was his right, since he did once see him get ‘assaulted’ by the lovely Gryffindor Chasers – it had ultimately left him with more questions than he had before. Now, Harry felt it best to do what came naturally. According to Narcissa’s moans, he was doing something right.

Narcissa writhed on the table from the torturous assault; she had never teased herself this much! Usually, she had just played with her body for a bit, teased her nipples until the maximum amount of blood had rushed there, and thrusted her fingers into her soaking folds until she came forcefully. It was  _ never _  this much build-up!

It only got worse as Hermione leaned over slowly, her tits looking absolutely mountainous from her angle, when Hermione started playing with her nipples again. She pinched the nubbins slowly, tweaking them in just the right way. Narcissa grinded uselessly into the air, desperate for her release. She lifted her head up slightly, and latched her lips onto Hermione’s left nipple. Hermione moaned in approval as she licked and suckled at the pink nubbin with hunger, loving the mewls of pleasure that came from the brunette’s mouth. She held on to that sound to distract her from the pain of extending her neck for so long, and the torture that Harry was putting her under.

Harry finally reached the apex of her thighs, and his fingers traced the lace edge of Narcissa’s panties. They clung so perfectly to her womanhood that he was even able to see the tiny nub at the top of her slit, and brushed it with his finger. Narcissa practically screamed, so he did it again. After he did it a third time, he could tell that she was very close, and quickly lifted her fascinatingly long legs to remove the thin fabric from her body. He removed the underwear from one leg, but left it on the other; it wouldn’t do for them to not be able to find it afterwards.

Harry stared in silent wonder at her glistening lips. It was a pale pinkish hue, much like her nipples, and the fluids running down the crack of her ass suggested that maybe he had been teasing her for too long. Wrapping his arms around both of her flawless thighs, strapping himself in for the ride, he took in a whiff of her scent. It was a certain scent that he was unfamiliar with, but it was tight passage

still very pleasant to his senses. Just her scent almost had him salivating. He took a small lick, and Narcissa squealed, bucking her hips. Deciding he liked the taste, his tongue trailed the outside of her smooth lips.

“Ah!” Narcissa screamed, releasing Hermione’s nipple as Harry finally reached her most sensitive organ. “Oh  _ yes _ , Harry! Right there–  _ umph! _ “

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Hermione panted as she lowered her other hardened, crinkled nipple into her soothing mouth. She moaned loudly when Narcissa swiftly accepted it back and rolled her tongue rigorously around her puffy areola. To repay her, she began lavishing Narcissa’s other teat with her tongue, swirling and lapping at the nipple with the wonder of a confused newborn. She slowly moved her own legs apart and reached beneath her white cotton panties to play with the small tuft of hair that lay above her vulva, and she quickly moved to stroke her intimate flesh, paying close attention to her clit. Her breathing was shallow as she stroked herself, her womanhood almost pulsing with desire. She was too beyond being nervous, and even if she was, she was  _ not _  going to stop this.

Harry used his fingers to split apart Cissy’s lips to see the glistening treasure within her folds. He took one more whiff and stuck his tongue into her tight channel as far as he could, wiggling it as he ventured.

He was glad that he had trapped her legs with his arms – she began bucking and kicking and convulsing, and he was sure she was experiencing an orgasm. He was right, as a torrent of fluids rushed to his tongue, and the pungent essence reached his nose. He quickly lapped the addicting, tangy fluids of her girlcum with a childlike exuberance. Her pussy tightened around his tongue, and his pants strained at the thought that it could soon be his shaft experiencing such an unbelievable tightness.

Narcissa breathed heavily as Hermione tugged her nipple out of her mouth – she never bit down, but she was sorely tempted to – and stood up, her perfectly formed breasts topped with slobber-coated nipples moving away from her. She wished she could reach out, but her fingers were still tied. She tried to test the bond, and found that her arms had fallen asleep from the misuse. She looked up at Hermione with pleading eyes, not for the bond, but for  _ more _ . She had reached her orgasm, and now that she realized what a  _ real _  one felt like, she didn’t want to stop having them anytime soon.

Hermione stared at the once proud Narcissa Black, and made a decision. She slowly removed the last of her underwear, and Cissy’s eyes widened in surprise, but she could see the lust quite clearly, and the brunette internally and outwardly gushed at the obvious desire. Her mind made up, she quickly got onto the table and straddled Narcissa’s head, her quivering cunt hovering over Narcissa’s pale rose lips. When Narcissa gave an experimental lick, Hermione almost jumped in surprise, having over-anticipated her new lover’s touch. Every time Narcissa licked was better than the last, and she sat still, her mind in a haze of lust. Her tongue swirled inside her in places she never knew she had, and while she hadn’t experienced much, this  _ certainly _  wasn’t in the books! Hermione felt she could write a book of her own after this wonderful experience.

She looked down to Harry, and smiled. Harry was looking up as best he could, with his tongue firmly in the older blonde’s twat, licking and slathering at the pink wonder that beheld him. They held eye contact as he quickly brought Narcissa to another orgasm, and as Hermione built up to her first of the night, she whispered her love to Harry, and tugged lightly on his head. He untangled himself from Narcissa’s legs and followed her hand, until they were at eye-level, inches away. She forced her mouth on his, and she began to orgasm at not only Narcissa’s assault, or Harry’s rather passionate return, but the taste of his and her fluids on her tongue.

She gasped for air as they parted, and found that she couldn’t move her legs to extricate herself from the tangle. Her creamy thighs were being pressed down by Harry’s hands, and he had a glint in his eyes. She shuddered as Narcissa continued her assault without pausing, probing her tight hole freely and enthusiastically. She shuddered uncontrollably as the mini-orgasms shook her to her core, her pussy sated and burning simultaneously. Harry lifted his hand from one of her legs and took her hand. He held it tight as he lowered his head to her nipple, the air having already dried Narcissa’s spit. He ignored the now flaky substance as his tongue caught her tit for the first time. He lavished his brunette lover with kisses around her breasts, smirking at how much space he had to smother with his lips.

Narcissa felt ignored, but knew enough not to complain for fear of the couple torturing her more. Her tongue was tired of the vigorous exercise, and her jaw was starting to cramp, but she persisted. She had experimented with her sisters, Bellatrix and Andromeda, before one went off the deep end, and the other was shunned from the family. The disappointingly few times that they were together, Bella and Andi had prized her on her cunnilingus skills, and she wasn’t quite ready to let that crown go, even though she was more than a bit out of touch.

Still, by Hermione’s moans, she was proud to say that she hadn’t lost a step, in ability anyway.

Harry stood back and watched as Hermione padded her fingers across Narcissa’s trembling stomach and slid her middle digit into her tight passage. Hermione slowly leaned down and finally tasted Narcissa’s juices from the source. He rubbed his crotch slowly, reminding himself to buy more silk boxers – they felt  _ exquisite _  against his hard-on.

He watched as Hermione dutifully licked at Narcissa’s quim, suppressing her own shudders to repay her for the two orgasms that the blonde had given her. Her hair had not yet fallen around her head to block his view, and he quickly corrected it by conjuring a hairband and walking over to her. He barely disturbed her by lifting her hair and putting it into a ponytail, her brown curls eventually landing on Narcissa’s outer thigh as he tested it. He couldn’t distract Hermione from her goal, once she set her mind to it. He wiped the sweat from her forehead and gave a few licks of his own to their professor’s nub, before he stood and walked to the other side of the table.

He was first gifted with the heavenly sight of Hermione’s backside. Had school robes not hidden the female form so well, her bum would surely be the stuff of legends in Hogwarts. It was perfect and round, but not an ounce of excess fat – just the right amount.

He saw Narcissa tiredly paying homage to it, sucking at the bundle of nerves at the top of her slit, desperately making up for the absence of her arms. He couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the sight, and began lowering his head as well.

Hermione moaned in surprise at the two sets of tongues fighting inside her. Her orally talented lovers gave her no chance to catch up to Narcissa’s number as she was penetrated by Harry’s rough drag of his tongue versus Narcissa’s sharp, smooth prodding. She squirmed, her nipples rubbing against Narcissa’s flat, glistening stomach, as she stared forward, the edge of the table cracking under her hands.

Harry swirled his tongue around, amazed at the difference between her cum and Narcissa’s. While Narcissa’s had a tangy, somewhat sweet taste, not unlike the nectar of a peach, Hermione’s cunny was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.

Hermione’s breath was ragged, her IQ slowly dropping as she experienced pleasure in its basest form under her two lovers’ ministrations. She quivered with delight and removed her own tongue from Narcissa’s pussy to moan, readying herself for her third orgasm of the night.

“Yes, Cissy! Harry!  _ God _  yes! Oh!” She squealed as she shook, fucking Narcissa more vigorously with two of her fingers, her thumb rubbing the sensitive jewel at the top of Cissy’s slit. Her fingers squelched loudly as she pumped her lover, her juices leaking down to the oak table and running in rivulets down to the floor. She let go of the table and gripped Narcissa’s smooth leg to steady herself, rubbing her chin against her professor’s platinum blonde tuft of soft, downy hair.

Harry held her ass in his hands to steady her as she shook in the throes of orgasm. The erotic sight in front of him made him want to unzip his pants and  _ take _ her,  _ both of them _  right there, but he wasn’t sure if Hermione wanted to go there yet. As he was absorbed in his thoughts, his thumb brushed over her puckered rosebud.

Hermione grunted in surprise as Harry touched her there, and wasn’t prepared for the rush of pleasure that it sent her. She had read somewhere that there were nerves that could give women pleasure through anal penetration, but she had never thought much about it.

But now, as she shuddered through the last of her orgasm, she made a mental note to consider it.

Narcissa struggled to close her mouth, her jaw irritatingly painful. She stretched it testily, and laid still. She had experienced her own powerful orgasm, and she really couldn’t take anymore – she felt spasms as Hermione slowly pulled out her fingers and rolled over off of her abused body.

Hermione was laid out on the side of the desk. The cool, hard oak felt good against her back, cooling down her hot body. She had no modesty as she was sprawled out in front of Harry. She struggled to sit up, and fell back on her elbows.

“Well… that was educational,” she breathed. The room was filled with chuckles.

“I need to look up the potion for lockjaw,” Narcissa winced as she laughed.

Harry shook his head as he wiped the sweat from her forehead. “You should be better after an hour or two.”

“I know,” she murmured, remembering the injection that brought her back to life, and its self-healing properties. “But since there’s going to be more, I don’t want to be caught limping out twenty minutes into our next meeting.”

Hermione scooted up slowly until her bare feet touched the ground. She began to stand up, and stumbled slightly. Harry quickly put his hand around her waist, and leaned back onto the table with her.

“Is this awkward?” Harry asked, and as a response, she put her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder.

Without a thought, Harry banished the tie that bound Narcissa and smiled down at her over Hermione’s head. Narcissa shot back a tired, sultry grin before she rolled to the other side of the desk, her boots striking the floor. Her arms were already getting their feeling back, and while the pain in her jaw was still irritating, it was nothing compared to how  _ good _  she felt.

“It’s only awkward,” Narcissa drawled, “if I actually bring in a dog bowl to play out your fantasy next time.”

Harry lightly snorted, aware that Hermione looked as if she was ready to fall asleep. “If you do, then maybe I’m not the one who is having a fantasy come true.”

The blonde, feeling modest, covered her breasts as she reached down to slip her other leg into her panties to pull them up. “I’ve had enough fantasies fulfilled today, thank you.”

Harry chuckled, and his breath caught in his throat.

Hermione’s fingers brushed over the bulge in his pants. “I could do with one more fantasy,” she murmured, her index finger circling his covered tip.

Harry groaned. “Hermione, you don’t have –”

“I  _ want _  to,” she cut him off, sliding off of his shoulder and slinking down to her knees, her face inches away from his bulge. She rested her elbows on his thighs as she fiddled with the fasteners on his slacks.

Narcissa blushed at the sight, her nipples hardening on her arm. She herself had never actually given a blowjob – not because she found it lowly or disgusting, but her only lovers consisted of her sisters and her ‘business partner,’ Lucius, who exclusively needed an heir.

And as Hermione finally unwrapped Harry’s package and shoved down his pants, Narcissa wasn’t sure if she should ever try it. According to Hermione’s sharp breath of intake, she was pretty sure the brunette was regretting her decision.

“It’s a bloody monster!” she shrieked, and Narcissa silently agreed. “How did you hide this from me… from anyone?!”

Harry groaned as Hermione’s dainty fingers ghosted over the sensitive skin of his cock, outlining the ridges. He wasn’t sure if nine inches was big or not, as he had never really taken the opportunity to compare with his peers, but the girls seemed pleased, so he was happy.

Hermione stroked the shaft experimentally, looking at the beast before her from all angles. The veins pulsed beneath her fingers, and she felt her heart race. “I’ve never seen one before, but I’ve read about it,” she murmured, both hands beginning to stroke his dick. “And I’ve seen pictures. But this – this doesn’t do justice to anything I’ve ever studied.”

Narcissa marveled at Harry’s impressive mast, its tip easily over Hermione’s head and into her view. The few times that she and her husband had sex, he had turned off the lights and had told her to be under the covers. Insert, thrust, and if she was lucky, repeat. She had never actually seen his penis, as they lived in separate wings before and after her pregnancy was confirmed.

But it certainly didn’t  _ feel _  like anything she was staring at now. And she lowered her panties again, not wanting to dirty the fabric too much. She  _ did _  have a class to teach in less than an hour.

Hermione studied every vein and contour on his cock, her fingers drifting to his sac to lift his manhood up better. She shuddered at how full it felt – she entertained herself with the thought that she might drown in his creamy essence if she wasn’t careful, before her other index finger met the tip of his organ.

She felt the sticky substance of his pre-cum on her fingers, and before she could calculate what she was doing, she dragged the tip of her finger to her lips and sucked.

Harry groaned at the sight, his tense frame leaning on the side of the oak desk more. He spied Narcissa leaning against the wall perpendicular to him, her legs spread, her fingers trailing to her over-stimulated sex once more.

Harry gasped when Hermione violently brought him back, licking the head of his cock, tasting the pre-cum directly. “Gods, Hermione!”

Hermione smiled around his crown at the praise in his voice; she must have done something right. Her tongue began swirling around the head, and he let out a guttural moan. She loved the taste. In some ways, it was as good, if not better than Narcissa’s taste.

She just hoped the other girls would taste just as good.

That thought propelled Hermione to push her head farther down, the pads of her tongue being as rough as they could across the underside.

Harry grabbed the edge of the desk he was leaning on, his legs wide as Hermione began to slowly bob on his cock, salivating his member. He knew he wouldn’t last long with this treatment, not after all the excitement that he had just gone through, but he could do nothing but enjoy it.

Narcissa was now fingering herself wildly, careful not to make a noise. Three digits pumped incessantly, her soaked fingers gliding easily in and out of her snatch. She reached up with her other hand and pulled loose her bun, her long blond hair cascading down her shoulders to the middle of her back. She used some of the strands to tickle her abused, sensitive nipples as she tweaked them. She watched Hermione’s smooth back, her slightly spread bum cheeks, and the smooth cunt-lips peeking under her, and she yearned to taste her again – she felt her jaw getting better already, by the hormones or the elixir, she didn’t care. But she knew they didn’t have time for another full round. She moaned out loud.

Hermione bobbed enthusiastically on his dick, silently coaxing him to orgasm. She knew they were running out of time until Narcissa’s next class, and while she was ready to lose her virginity to him, she didn’t want it to be rushed.

She struggled to deep throat him, her pink lips stretching almost comically around his girth, and his legs felt like jelly. Sure, her teeth had grazed him quite often, and he would have blown his load long ago if it weren’t for that, but it was still more than pleasurable. He glanced at Narcissa sliding down the wall, her fingers stuffed up her cunt, stroking her inner walls with practiced ease, and back to Hermione, her eyes closed in concentration, her dainty fingers stroking the remainder of his shaft as she struggled to swallow his cock, and he felt close.

Hermione made a guttural moan in her throat as she tried to inhale Harry’s fleshy rod into her gullet, roughly swallowing the air as her tonsils brushed his tip. She knew she couldn’t get past this point – yet – and she only had three more inches to go.

Well, practice makes perfect – And she was known to never give up on a goal.

With this in mind, she continued moaning, her hands pumping the base of his dick faster, urging her green-eyed lover to cum. She breathed through her nose as she sucked him, her tongue sliding along his pulsing veins.

“Hermione,” Harry grunted, and she instinctually knew what to do as she ran her thumbs across the underside, beginning to coax his seed out.

Harry almost blacked out from the force of his orgasm. Four, five, six wads of cum shot off into Hermione’s waiting mouth, her pink, moist lips moving back to holding just the head as he heard each barely audible gulp. She stroked his cock with her full fist for the first time, pumping it vigorously until it began to soften. As Hermione kept suckling at his half-erect member, he saw Narcissa open her mouth in a silent scream as she came, her form crumpling to the floor in exhaustion, her beautiful light gold hair sticking to her back and chest. Her legs trembled as her bare bottom hit the cold cement of the floor, her back sensitive to the rough scrapes of the wall behind her. She licked her dry lips, wondering what his seed tasted like.

The room was filled with heavy pants as Hermione finally sat back, caressing her jaw. She was almost dazed at the events that had just transpired, and was only shocked more because she had caused them.

She didn’t regret it, and she was sure her new boyfriend and girlfriend didn’t either, but this went  _ way _  out of hand. Right?

She looked into Harry’s green eyes, as he pulled her up and kissed her forehead in thanks, and then she looked back to Narcissa scrambling for the rest of her clothes. No, it went exactly the way it was supposed to go.

“Mrs. Potter, you said?” Hermione mumbled against his neck as she hugged him. Her mind still reeled with the blatant insinuation.

“What? Would you prefer Mrs. Granger-Potter?” Harry laughed, and almost yelped when she grabbed a handful of his buttocks.

“No thanks. It will be my middle name. Though I  _ do _  wonder who should be Mrs. Black.”

“That would get confusing,” Cissy muttered as she sat on the desk in front of the two, wearing everything but her robe now, and the couple glanced over to her. “I mean, if I’m a concubine, I’ll still be  _ Miss _  Black, right?”

Hermione nodded. “Are you sure you want to be a  _concubine_?”

Narcissa smiled softly at them. “Unless you change your mind about all of this, I don’t think I can get enough of you two. This was  _ fun _ . I had forgotten what this felt like. And I can’t think of two better people I’d like to begin this journey with. Now that the sexual energy is all out of my system, I can tell you with a clear mind, that I’d like nothing more than to join you two.”

The couple smiled gratefully, and they gently pulled her off the table to make a three-way hug.

“Thank you, Cissy,” Hermione said gratefully, “but that’s not what I meant.”

Narcissa tilted her head, her silvery blonde hair framing her beautiful, confused face.

Hermione glanced at Harry with pleading eyes. And he smiled back.

“I believe she means that she wants you to be Mrs. Black,” Harry clarified, and his face tilted to Narcissa. “Will you accept her proposal?”

Narcissa gasped, her eyes shining. Before she could answer, Both Harry and Hermione held her closer to them, and she felt the love and warmth through the heartfelt hug.

“I’d be honored,” Narcissa cried, tears streaming down her face, and they thanked her with a kiss each.

The room was quiet for a moment; each person just basking in the hug, never wanting it to end. Then Hermione broke the silence.

“At least I was right about the ego trip. I’d be quite happy about the rest being wrong, though.”

Harry laughed, and Narcissa was just confused.

**~Back to Second Year~**

_“…Thank you for being our first test subject. It might be too early to say, but I think that barring any more accidents, due to the liquid flowing in your bloodstream, there is a possibility that you are immortal.”_

Narcissa took a deep breath. Maybe she was dead, and this was a limbo where her imaginations ran wild. As she ran a hand down her once-again flawless right arm, her theory seemed more sound to her every time she blinked.

Hermione placed her hand on Narcissa’s, stopping her movement. She looked up at the little girl, and she seemed to almost have tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” the small girl said softly, her slight overbite making her smile all the more charming and innocent. “You tried to save Harry’s life. Of course he didn’t listen, and that turned out to be a good thing.” She paused. “Your husband arranged for this… didn’t he.”

It very deliberately wasn’t ended as a question. She wondered how far she had underestimated the two smartest children in the school.

“It was rather unfortunate of him, and even more unfortunate of how it happened so inconveniently for him. He was so concerned on looking for his wife, a potions knife in his right hand – well, he had forgotten that the stairs move in this school. His foot was caught in the trick step, and he launched himself down the stairs. Caught by his own knife – right in the throat. Terrible.”

Narcissa closed her eyes. “Terrible, indeed.” She hoped there were pictures.

“Harry…” she started, then chewed on her lip, her eyes uncertain. “He said he had a plan to take care of the basilisk before he left. Did you tell him anything?”

She struggled to remember what she had told him. Suddenly, she struggled to get up, but the drugs in her system kept her down. “No! No! What have I done?”

Hermione, already armed with her wand, stunned the older witch, quite worried. It was a basic instinct – she merely reacted. It was a good thing, too. If she had gotten out of the bed, she would have only collapsed. Her heart was just barely beating, and while she could move her extremities, she wasn’t capable of holding weight yet – namely her own.

She performed a basic diagnostic charm on her professor, before smiling at the results that hovered over the prone form. She had to thank Madame Pomfrey.

She frowned. What did the professor tell Harry?

She looked over at the bag of notes on the floor next to the nightstand. She shook her head; she didn’t have the time to look for what she told him, Harry was in danger.

She raised her wand with a steady grip.

_“Legilimens!”_


	5. Part V

**~Let it Go~**

“She needs a _friend_ , Ron.”

“Sure, _probably_! Who says it’s got to be us?”

“You started this!”

“No, she did! She couldn’t mind her own business! Why couldn’t she have just let me be? I almost had it!”

“You _blew up your feather_ , Ron!(1) I didn’t know that was possible! And Seamus had just lit his on _fire_!”

“She distracted me! I almost had it! I didn’t need her help!”

“You hurt her feelings, Ron. The least you could do is tell her you’re sorry!”

The redhead was quiet. The table was quiet.

Half of the entire hall was quiet. The rest was filled with mutterings of what would happen next.

“She doesn’t have friends, Harry,” Parvati said slowly, a few seats away. “Ron was a bit hot-headed, yes, but he was telling the truth. I… I’ve tried talking to her, but she likes to keep to herself. And she’s just so _bossy_.” She sniffed. “And she shows off. Someone had to tell her. Weasley might not be the best with his words – ”

“Hey!”

“ – but he’s right. He probably should apologize, but she should learn from him.”

Now, the entire hall was quiet. The small, scrawny first year felt all eyes on him, as he nervously pushed his oversized glasses onto his face. He wanted to shrink away. He wanted to disappear.

Like she did. Because she couldn’t stand up for herself. Like he always didn’t.

Not this time.

“No one should be reminded that they don’t have friends.” Harry spoke loudly. “She didn’t pick on anyone. She didn’t talk about any of you. She saw someone who needed help, and she helped. Friends help each other.” He looked at Ron. “She was asking for friendship, Ron. You didn’t have to be such a git.”

“Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall warned him from the head table. “I understand your stance in this matter, but there is no need for name-calling. Mr. Weasley, you will apologize to Miss Granger when she returns.”

“I didn’t do anything!” The temperamental redhead exclaimed, his fork clattering against the plate. “ _She_ should apologize to _me_!”

“Mr. Weasley, I’ve heard from Professor Flitwick of your performance in class. She was only giving you helpful advice. You could have done well to listen to her words.”

Ron sputtered for a moment, hyper-aware of the chuckles around him, before turning to Harry. “Oi, you’ll defend her, but not me! I thought friends defended each other!”

For the first time in young Harry Potter’s life, he made his own choice. He pushed himself away from the table. “I’m not friends with a bully. My friend needs me.”

He took one last glance around the silent Great Hall – more of a glare, really – and quickly walked the long walk out of there. With each step, he felt that his exit was probably becoming less meaningful. Still, he ignored McGonagall’s orders for him to stop, and pressed on. He forcefully pushed one of the double doors open and slammed it behind him.

When he felt he had reached a safe distance from the murmurs and whisperings of the crowd, he keeled over and took a deep breath.

That was… well, immediately, it was suffocating, but after recognizing, and fully understanding what he had just done, it was – freeing! Powerful, even! How did he have the strength to even _do_ that? To stand up for himself? What had come over him? Was it really because Ron had hurt that girl? It wasn’t like he was as bad as Dudley, and though that wasn’t saying much, it was true. Harry had _never_ snapped at Dudley or Vernon like that. Consequences ignored, Harry had often gotten to the point with them that he would snap, but he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t know Ron as well as his relatives, and he felt that deep in him, he felt that the repercussions wouldn’t compare to what Dudley and Vernon could do.

After all, Ron couldn’t even do a levitation charm. Harry at least had that spell under his belt. If push came to shove, he would float the redhead to the ceiling and drop him.

“Levi-OH-sa…” Harry muttered to himself, chuckling. He could understand Ron’s anger for not getting the spell, but at least he wasn’t Seamus.

He shook his head and stood tall. He needed to find Hermione. He began to walk – it didn’t necessarily matter where, he had no idea where she was.

That probably would have been a good question to ask before he stormed off. Walking back wasn’t an option, of course; he couldn’t come back unless it was with Hermione, for his own pride. He supposed he was on his own.

He looked to the side and saw his reflection in the trophy case. He smiled – he didn’t look any different. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose; he ran a hand through his messy black hair. He supposed turning into a more confident, independent person was more of an _inside_ change, rather than a physical transformation.

Still; he was smiling. He was in rare form.

He looked down at the bottom shelf and cocked his head to the side.

 _James Potter – Chaser, 74-78, Captain, 77-78_ was at the top of one of the plaques.

James Potter – Leader. Brimming with confidence. Brave.

Not a _drunk_ who died in a car crash.

Harry’s fingers pressed hard against the glass, and suddenly pulled his hand away.

He needed that. He strode forward, his legs just as energetic as it was when he escaped the Great Hall.

Hogwarts wasn’t that big of a place, right? There weren’t that many places she could go to.

**~Hand of the Devil~**

Harry cursed Ron’s name for the seventeenth time as he walked down the corridor, _alone_ , glancing around at anything that looked familiar. The endless, tedious maze that was Hogwarts was really working against him right now.

And while the moving staircase may have had something to do with it, he couldn’t help but blame that on Ron as well.

Each time he saw the trophy case (and there seemed to be only one), and the plaque, in the hallway, his confidence wavered a bit. Luckily, he didn’t seem to be passing it any more.

And it only took two times for him to finally find a unique path that didn’t lead him back to it. He didn’t want to accidentally run into the Great Hall.

He stopped. How long had it been? Ten, fifteen minutes? The feast was almost over. It wouldn’t do to have them all leave for their dorm, only to see him wandering aimlessly. Since today was a ‘special occasion’, he didn’t think they would leave on time, but he wasn’t taking chances. He quickened his pace.

The green-eyed, bespectacled boy had only one goal, going into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It wasn’t to learn all he could learn, or even to be the best wizard he could be – he wanted to make friends.

He was doing a _spectacular_ job at that now, wasn’t he?

He had, in one swift move, alienated himself from what had been his only real friend and the rest of Gryffindor. He sighed. Perhaps he _could_ have done better in Slytherin.

Or Hufflepuff. They seemed like a nice bunch. His parents were in Gryffindor; did that mean he _had_ to be? He liked to think he was his own person, though he was told that he looked uncomfortably similar to his father at his age (except for his eyes. He had his mother’s eyes). It seemed that the only thing that cast him out of their shadow was the thing he did that he didn’t even remember.

Oh. Right. Today was the tenth anniversary of that. As if he hadn’t been told that every hour today, with such excitement in everyone’s voices.

He couldn’t blame them. Most of them had lost someone close as well to Voldemort, and he was so feared that they still couldn’t say his name. But could they at least make it sound like sacrifices were made that night?

Perhaps it was a bit therapeutic, leaving when he did. Had he been prompted, with this newfound self-assurance, he didn’t think he would have kept quiet about his reservations to put on a party hat.

He sighed, ignoring the headache coming on, and refocused on where he was going. This looked… familiar, and in a bad way. He looked far down the hall, and noticed a trophy case. The very same trophy case.

Harry had picked up a few words, living with the Dursleys. They weren’t a type of people to keep tabs on their language around him, and while his aunt and uncle weren’t too vulgar often, there were just some words that a child hears for the first time that just fascinates them, and sticks with them for a lifetime. Now, Harry didn’t exactly know the entire description and definition of some of the words. But he did know how to use them in a sentence, or even as a single word for a phrase. This seemed like an appropriate time.

“Shit.”

“I trust that you’re very hungry, Mister Potter?” Harry spun around quickly, covering his mouth with both hands.

“Sorry!” Harry yelled, his voice muffled.

“Don’t be,” the professor waved it off. “I’m late for the feast as well. I had a few choice words to say myself, grading papers before coming up here, but no one was around to hear me. I dare say that I should be docking points from myself before I harp on you about it.” Professor Quirinus Quirrell stood back and pondered. “Though it _has_ been two months. How do you not know how to get to the Great Hall by now?”

Harry’s hands left his face, and they trembled lightly at his side. “I wasn’t going to the feast – I was looking for someone.”

“And you haven’t found him yet? It seems your friend does not wish to be found.”

“No, sir, it’s a girl – Hermione Granger.”

“Oh. My mistake, Mister Potter.” He narrowed his eyes a bit in concentration. “Is she… upset or something? I heard someone crying in the girl’s bathroom, near the dungeons.” At Harry’s confusion, he clarified. “The dungeons, Mister Potter; Where the Slytherin Common Room is, one floor below us, on the other side of this tower. I had assumed it was Myrtle, and that she had been sent away from her home by some unruly students, but it was a bit too quiet to be her, in reflection. I locked the door so she wouldn’t be disturbed and… bothered. Her being near the Slytherin chambers, and all.”

Harry wasn’t really paying attention to Quirrell’s explanation towards the end. Rather, he was listening to the cohesiveness of his words. “Professor Quirrell… your stutter.”

“It comes and goes, Mister Potter. Usually with potions. I have a disastrous headache that makes it difficult to concentrate, much less talk. I believe muggles call it a tumour. It is resting, now.”

He could commiserate with him on the headache. He was feeling one quite massive right now, but he ignored it. To distract himself, Harry pictured, for a brief moment, an ice pack hidden somewhere in his turban, and struggled not to laugh. “Thank you, Professor!” The small boy said brightly, before he sprinted off – the feast was almost over, and he’d rather be as far away from the crowd as possible.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr. watched him run down the corridor with an approving eye.

The ‘tumour’, as he so creatively put it, was in fact, Quirinus Quirrell himself. The stuttering oaf had used so much energy using an _Imperius_ on the troll (you’d think it would be easier to control a being with such a small, acquiescent mind, but magic was mysterious that way – he would look into it another day, in another body) that the man had fainted. He had taken over his body before he hit the ground.

It was consuming his energy just speaking; just using his vocal cords. When the boy was out of view, down the stairs, he pulled out a small vial of invigoration draught. The results might end in the oaf waking back up, unintentionally kicking his Lord back out to the nether regions of his brain, but he needed the last bit of energy for his performance piece. He didn’t have the power to strike Potter if he wanted to – and he was not yet sure _if_ he wanted to.

He was of two minds as he conversed with Potter, no pun intended. He wanted the boy dead. And, one day, the boy will die. How soon that was going to be was purely in his hands, whoever’s hands he happened to inhabit at the time.

However… He could use power like that. Admittedly, his parents were rather powerful. He had faced the boy’s father three times before that night, and while James had fallen to him rather quickly the final time, he didn’t have his wand with him, and his wandless magic was impressive, from what he had seen. If he had his wand, his wife could have probably escaped in time. And the boy’s mother – he could _almost_ understand why his subordinate was so in love. He could practically see the power radiating off of her, but her fear of unleashing it in front of her child caused her demise, as love does on occasion.

He sighed, uncorking the vial. He had probably made a mistake that fateful night. His ‘death’ aside, he should have offered her a place amongst his ranks. The girl was barely twenty-two, and her raw power could rival Bellatrix at her best!

He grimaced. She would’ve probably never followed him by choice. Her petty emotions would have settled on the murder of her husband and little else. And he had to kill the boy; that was unavoidable, at the time.

Perhaps the prophecy has already been fulfilled; he was technically dead at this point. He was too quick to say he made a mistake. But he would be foolish if he didn’t, at the least, make an offer to young Harry Potter to join his side. The small boy who seemed to be destined to lead the light, following his Dark Lord before he could even understand the difference between light and dark?

Lord Voldemort never smiled. But a smirk could sneak its way onto his face every once in a while.

It was still in place as he downed the draught.

Still, he wasn’t going to let this opportunity get away from him, if he had the chance. That would be even more imbecilic of him. He had noticed the small muggleborn witch, and had watched her carefully, and he would be remiss to ignore the fact he was a bit intimidated by her presence around Mister Potter.

The smirk morphed into a deep frown, and not from the taste – ambition, brains and power. Too much of one was dangerous in itself. Too much of all three?

Just the thought alone was _terrifying_. He was a prime example of what it could do.

No one should have that power. _No one_. Not even him. It had given him far too much responsibility, this power that he had. It was his burden to make the world as he saw it.

Sure, he had asked for all of it. He had actively pursued it, and had earned his limitless power and abilities.

But it haunted him. It was best not to let anyone else have that burden shifted on them. Even if he had to kill them. They would thank him if they knew where their life was headed.

He used his thumb to wipe away any remains of the draught from his once again smirking lips.

The troll needed to get past the bathroom to get to Gryffindor Tower – destroying it should be an excellent distraction for him. While locking the door, he had put an amplifying charm on the threshold, to make certain that the troll heard her cries. She would be the Moaning Myrtle of this generation.

And if Potter happened to be walking by…

Well, it was a hero’s death. That’s what all Gryffindors want, do they not? The boy’s parents would be so _proud_. Besides, if he couldn’t get past a stupid troll, then he didn’t deserve an offer to join the forces of Lord Voldemort.

He turned towards the other end of the hall. The doors were closed; perfect for his dramatic entrance.

He cleared his throat and ran forward.

“TROLL! TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!”

**~The Calm~**

She couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t.

She was only trying to help. The boy – _Ronald_ – obviously couldn’t figure out one of the simplest charms in the book, and she had to step in and show him how to do it. Who would turn down a chance to _learn_ something?

He disgusted her.

She knew his kind. Unintentional or deliberate, there was always a class clown, and she usually found herself becoming their mortal enemy. The format was always the same. She was the Teacher’s Assistant; he was the Class Clown. It had always been a boy. She didn’t know what was wrong with the lot of them. She didn’t like not knowing things, but it was one mystery that irked her to a point that she didn’t really care about the answer – only wondering how to _fix_ it.

Usually, she’d win those little ‘fights’. After all, the teacher was on her side. She never liked the term ‘teacher’s pet’ – it was a demeaning term, something that suggested she lapped at the teacher’s heels, following their orders and listening to their every word out of sheer stupidity, as if she was incapable of doing anything but follow the leader. She was the teacher’s _assistant_. It was just another assignment to her. Teachers had a very stressful job, and she helped when she could.

She didn’t make a lot of friends this way of course, but she was there to _learn_ , not make friends.

She did, however, make enemies. And while their words stung, she held her head high and her eyes forward. She had no friends, but she was _happy_. She had parents who loved her, and books to read. Whether it be about an interesting fact, the significance of a life lived before her, or an escape from reality, books had always kept her sated. And happy.

But when she got her letter to Hogwarts, something about her changed.

She wanted _friends_. Maybe she wanted someone to read and reflect on those books with? Friends to talk with during a particularly boring or tedious chapter? Someone to help her crusade against the class clowns of the world? Maybe it was something she had always yearned for, but accepted she never could have, and now, maybe foolishly, she thought she was given another chance?

Maybe she just needed someone to occasionally remind her that she wasn’t alone?

She wrapped her arms around her legs, and put her head between her knees.

Friendless, bookworm, bossy know-it-all Hermione. As the story goes. As the story would always go, it seemed, unless she changed who she was – her identity. And she didn’t think she was willing to do that. Honestly, the loneliness was preferable to being what she wasn’t.

And if there was anything she wasn’t, it was normal.

It saddened her more than what she thought was possible, to be able to admit that to herself.

A boy who had magic his whole life had claimed that she wasn’t normal. And according to the silence that followed, they all agreed. Even the muggleborns.

Friendless, bossy, know-it-all bookworm _freak_.

As the story goes. And part of her was just beginning to accept that.

She squeaked when she heard a knock on the door.

* * *

“Hermione? Are you in there?”

Of course someone was in there. He could hear someone sniffling, but it could very well be that Myrtle girl his DADA professor was talking about. He could probably help her as well, but Hermione was a bit bigger priority right then. Still, he wasn’t going to leave whoever was in there crying by herself. “Myrtle?”

“Who?”

Oh. So, it was Hermione. It was the first legible thing she said, and Harry instantly recognized her voice. “Please open the door. It’s me, Harry.”

“Harry?” She sniffled a few times. “Go away.”

A part of him was hurt. “I didn’t say all of those things.”

“You didn’t disagree!” She yelled through the door, and Harry backed up bit. She sounded like she was directly behind the door. “Sorry,” she said meekly. “I’m just upset. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m better than this.” He heard the hard edge in her tone, and flinched further at the insult. It hurt worse than her yelling.

“I know.” Harry paused. “I am, too. I try to be. It just took me a minute. Don’t apologize; I deserve it. I’m sorry I didn’t defend you when I did. I really am.”

“I’m a nightmare,” she sniffed, her tone mockingly. “It’s no wonder I have any friends.”

“At least you said it right,” Harry muttered shyly, and she let out an unintentional snort.

He heard the girl sniffle again. Then, he heard a low whisper. “I was just trying to help…”

“I know you were! That’s what friends do! And now… I’m trying to help you. Please?”

There were a few bated breaths, and Harry listened closely. “F-friends?”

Harry leaned down, closer to the crack of the door. She was getting quieter and quieter. “I’ve never really had one. I’d like to know what it’s like.” He fidgeted. “Ron’s a prick. I won’t be around him any longer. He… he kinda reminds me of Malfoy, to be honest.” He heard a small giggle, and chuckled with her. “You don’t have to open the door, but I just wanted to tell you that I just called him a git in front of the school, and walked out of the Great Hall. I can’t go back and you can’t make me. So I guess I need a place to cry, too.”

Hermione was fully laughing, now. Her voice got louder and louder, to a point where it was almost deafening.

And she opened the door.

Her tears were fresh on her pink cheeks, but her eyes were now moist with mirth. Her overbite only enhanced her wide smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “So… friends?” She asked, almost nervously.

Harry held out his hand. “Friends.”

She used one hand to wipe her tears away, and the other to take his hand. They shook on it.

**~The Storm~**

A crash sounded in the distance.

The first thing that Harry looked at were towards any paintings in the hall – Since he had gone to the school, he was rather paranoid about the art come to life, and had noticed that when he was alone, noises usually came from the talking portraits. They were friendly, for the most part, but he had learned to avoid the ‘ugly’ ones. They tended to like to scare the ‘ickle firsties’.

There were no paintings.

There was a slight odor that he could faintly gather, though.

“What was that?” Hermione wondered, and though she didn’t appear afraid, she seemed startled at the sound.

Harry shrugged helplessly. “Maybe someone dropped something?”

Another crash.

“Someone very clumsy?” he muttered sceptically.

“Could be that Head Girl I met a few weeks ago.” Her voice trembled. “I don’t think she’s that clumsy. Though that is how I met her…”

The next sound Harry and Hermione heard wasn’t a crash or a clang, however.

It was a thump.

Then another.

The pattern was so consistent, escalating so steadily that it didn’t take much more for them to figure it out.

Footsteps. Heavy, deafeningly large footsteps. Getting closer.

“Hagrid doesn’t sound like that,” Harry whispered, his hand pushing the door back. “D’you reckon it was that three-headed dog?”

She stopped herself by correcting him with the correct terminology, and immediately shook her head. “He was big, but not that big.” She licked her suddenly dry lips, moving slowly, backing into the room. “And I’m hearing two slow feet. Not four. Not fast enough, not irregular.”

The two slipped inside the bathroom, and Harry softly closed the door.

Hermione moved back towards the sinks. “Think whatever that is… could be friendly?”

Harry wasn’t sure. “Has to be friendlier than a Cerberus, right?”

Even in her somewhat panic-stricken state, she appreciated his correct term usage. “I think we should hide.”

“Good idea.” Only there were very limited spaces to hide in a bathroom, if whatever behind that door chose to open it. The only option they had were the stalls, so Hermione chose the one on the very end – the one she was in before – and Harry got into the stall next to her.

As the stomps got louder, Harry began to hear the girl sniffle again. And he found himself in the very same situation he began in; afraid for what his next action was going to be, and locking himself away. And while this was more literal than metaphorical, his actions held true. He didn’t even know what was in that hallway! It could be a Halloween prank or something! And yet, here he was, an ickle Firstie, waiting until the ‘danger’ passed.

The water in the toilet bowl rippled. The wooden door of the stall trembled beneath his fingers. And Harry’s concern of it being a mere prank was soundly disregarded as the wall to the entire lavatory smashed inwards, the sink and mirror shattering and exploding towards them.

Even the hideous smell was well-hidden by the fear of what he saw. And Harry new, his death was imminent.

But that didn’t necessarily mean that Hermione was going to die.

All his life, Harry ran away from his troubles. And, while this may have been a legitimate reason to run, he wasn’t going to. Not anymore.

He pulled out his wand. This time – and maybe for only a minute or two – _he_ was going to be the Chaser.

* * *

**~Years Later (Present)~**

The trip to Hogsmeade was in two days, and whatever happened that Saturday was entirely on this race. The stands were empty – no one to cheer them on as they lifted off to the sky. Harry’s Firebolt shook with barely released power as he held on to the grip, very comfortable with his flying companion.

His mind drifted back to the previous afternoon. Everything appeared normal as Hermione and he had left the classroom. The ties that were strengthened that day would not be seeing the light for a while. During the last moments, before Narcissa’s next class was supposed to begin, they had agreed to meet that night in the Room of Requirement. The entire night, they had discussed their future together, and the ramifications of such an extreme choice. Narcissa had second thoughts about taking the last name Potter, not because of the legendary Potter-Malfoy rivalry, which went generations deep, or the fact that her son’s reaction to this would practically guarantee that he’d be dead ten minutes after the announcement, but of her age.

Her fortieth birthday was in a few weeks when she took the life-altering injection. She was still in shape, her body obviously quite toned, and a figure that twenty-five year-olds would kill for, but she still felt a bit conscious about herself. When Harry mentioned that she was on his list for a reason, she smirked and joked that he should marry number one, then.

It was an awkward silence that followed. Narcissa laughed, having figured it out, and congratulated Hermione. Harry wordlessly handed her the full list and she read it, the signature at the bottom catching her attention first. She almost cried again at the implication – he honestly did think of her as one of the most beautiful women in the school – and there were quite a lot of beautiful women around them.

She laughed at the second name on the list, saying that it would be a dream come true for the girl. Harry was a bit surprised at the news.

After staring at the list a few more seconds, she decided. Narcissa admitted that while there was nothing more she’d like to do than to marry the two, she had reservations. The main one being the fact that she was almost forty years old. Before the two could protest, she held up a hand.

_“I know, I know, I get it, and I love you two for believing so,” Narcissa said firmly, flushing as spoke. Those words took an entirely different meaning from when she usually said it, and it was the first time she confessed her love to anyone, much less two people at once. “I truly, truly do. But this is not about my looks. This is completely about… well, in the past few years, you’ve noticed I’ve been in a few training exercises with you two, once in a while.” They nodded, and they quickly realized what she was getting at. “Yes, well, while I may be potentially immortal, that means I will always be forty; that means I will never have the energy of a teenager. Technically, I can never catch up to you, because you two are undoubtedly not normal teenagers. I would never ask you to wait until your mid-life crises to take the Elixir injection. You both agreed before that you would do it on your official twentieth birthdays. It just wouldn’t be… right. I’ve said this before. I’d love nothing more than to join you two and become a concubine for you. It just fits better for me, and I don’t have as much responsibility.”_

_Hermione looked unsure. “Narcissa, you_ know _we both love you. And we don’t think any less of you for your decision, or the fact that you prefer to be a concubine. But what makes you think that you won’t be the only one to join us?”_

_Narcissa gave her a blank look._

_“You’ve_ seen _the list, Cissy. Half of them had always thought of Harry like a sister would a brother, and I’m relatively sure the other half may not be into the idea of sharing.”_

_Narcissa continued staring at Hermione, unimpressed._

“ _Let's sift through this_ logically _, Cissy. Do you really think that there's just a line of girls ready to shag Harry silly? That everyone on this list could respond_ positively _to this declaration of Harry's ill-conceived attempt of_ socializing?”

_Harry translated. “I think Narcissa is trying to say that we’re going to have a full-fledged harem.”_

_Hermione sighed and deflated. “I know. It sucks a little bit.”_

Harry’s thoughts were brought back to the present as he spotted her – Hedwig flew majestically across the pitch, her wings spread wide gliding towards the middle goal post on the other side of the pitch. She fluttered her wings as she landed on the goal, her amber eyes piercing as she spied the two racers. She hooted loudly as she flapped her wings.

“Scared, Potter?”

“You wish.”

Katie and Harry shared a laugh as they remembered Draco’s words before he was soundly defeated by Harry in their first year duel – the first of many beatings he had taken in the hands of the green-eyed wizard, on the pitch, on the platform, and in the hallways.

Harry glanced to Katie, and the stunning Gryffindor Chaser smiled at him – she certainly didn’t look angry. Maybe she was positive she was going to win?

“Let’s change the stakes!” She yelled, near-abruptly, as she swivelled her broom to face him directly.

Harry raised an eyebrow, but took the bait. “Why? Still mad at me?”

She waved it off. “It was our fault, Harry. You were a victim in this, and we probably shouldn’t have done it. We apologize.”

“Hold on; Katie did you tell them – ?”

“So the new stakes,” Katie continued quickly, her grin more threatening than before, and Harry knew that whatever she would say, he _had_ to win. “It’s simple. If you win, I’ll tell Padma everything. I’ll tell her about the kiss, the games, everything.”

“I don’t see how that’s an attractive deal to me,” Harry crossed his arms, mindful of being fifty feet from the ground.

She smiled cutely. “Firstly, you won’t have to explain it to her. Secondly, you come out as the victim in all of this, and we are the horrible succubae that ripped a poor boy’s innocence away.”

Harry snorted. “No thanks. _I’ll_ tell Padma. If you’re going to come out as a bad guy in all of this, then I’ll tell the story my way. You three had a bit of innocent fun, and I was a more than willing, if a bit helpless, victim.” He frowned. “Besides, what happened yesterday between you and me isn’t going to compare to what else I have to tell her.”

At Katie’s confused expression, Harry sighed. “Let’s go back to the ground, Katie. I have to tell you something.”

Katie tilted her head at him, and slowly nodded. The two lowered themselves to the pitch, not seeing Hedwig rustle her feathers in irritation.

“And here, I was expecting a long, tiresome race, followed by a nice, long victory party in the showers,” Katie smirked, expecting Harry to blush.

He dismounted his broom and held it upright. “I probably would have been looking forward to it, if what happened yesterday didn’t happen.”

Her interest was piqued, and she tried to put the pieces together. “What happened, Harry? Did someone _else_ ask you to the ball?”

Harry looked over her shoulder, and she turned around. Hermione, in the first row of the stands, noticed the eyes on her and closed her book. “Hermione? I didn’t even see her!”

“She’s rather good at hiding,” Harry grinned as his girlfriend came over. “And it’s a bit more complicated than that, to answer your last question, Katie.”

Katie smiled as Hermione looked almost nervous, crossing her arms expectantly. “So you two hooked up, huh?”

Hermione gave a brief chuckle. “More complicated than that, still. But yes.”

Katie crossed her arms and looked back and forth between the two. Her mind reeled with what they might tell her. Could they have had sex? Are they getting married? Did they have sex weeks ago, and Hermione told him that she was pregnant? All very doubtful, since she gave him his second ever kiss, but knowing these two, really anything was possible. What could it possibly be?

“As it turns out,” Hermione started, halting Katie’s overloading mind, “After Harry and I talked, and figured out what we are to each other, there still are other girls vying for his affections as well.” She nodded her head towards Katie. “And, well, I decided that I’m not a greedy person.”

It took a few seconds for Katie to comprehend Hermione’s statement. “So you know I kissed him?”

Hermione nodded. “I also know everything else that happened, Katie. As far back as third year. Harry tells me everything. Not in real time,” she glared at him, and he was suddenly focused on his owl circling them, “but he tells me nevertheless. And the only thought that I had was that I wish I had thought of it first. I was just growing the equipment to do it, too.”

Katie found herself blushing as Hermione continued. “What I’m trying to say is, well, if you _truly_ feel the way that you do about Harry, and I’m sure you do, then I’m not stopping you, and I don’t think he will either. Just know that he isn’t exclusive to you, and that you two are a secret. Unless, of course, you’re okay with people talking about the three of us.”

Katie stumbled a bit, leaning on her broom. “Sharing him? You’re really okay with that? More importantly, are you _comfortable_ with that? How are you going to break this to Padma? Does she know already? Did she agree to this? Are you two… in love?”

Hermione blinked at the barrage of questions. “Er… yes, yes, I’m pretty sure I answered that question myself yesterday, the same way I’m telling you now, we plan to talk to her today, refer to answer number five, and….”

“More than I thought I ever could,” Harry spoke softly, knowing that she was seeking confirmation. His hand searched for hers. “More than she could ever know.”

Hermione blinked away the phantom tears, joyous tears she knew would never truly stop flowing. She squeezed his hand tightly. “I think you have your answer. Yes.”

Katie slid her hand down her broom as her bottom hit the grassy field. She needed to think. She felt Hermione sit down next to her, and Harry sat on her other side. “Sharing him. _Sharing_ you. A bit unconventional, but hey, this is the Wizarding world.” She glanced at Hermione on her left and Harry on her right, who had his head down in concentration. “Not a bit nervous about the thought? Of having a few witches under your belt, so to speak?”

Harry gave her a fierce look that made her want to scoot towards Hermione, if they gave her enough room to move. “Were you three thinking about that when you teased me? If the TriWizard never happened, and we had played Quidditch last year, would you three consider taking the next step? If you did… I’d be ready,” he told her seriously. He turned away. “But if I was aiming for purely sexual relationships… it would be a lot easier than what we’re doing now. Someone I considered a dear friend and mentor is in love with me, and I didn’t even _know_ until yesterday. And then I found out that I had a bit more than a crush on her… I’m not sure if it’s love, but it… it might.”

Hermione snorted beside her. “It took you five years to figure out what love is, Harry, and that could be solely blamed on your relatives. Maybe you love her and you don’t know it, yet.”

Katie knew they were avoiding saying the person’s name for a reason, but she was able to figure it out. “I’ve seen the list today, you know. I don’t think you would consider Chang as a mentor or a dear friend. But if the only other choice is the person you’re talking about… well, that’s a bit of a surprise. Professor Black is a beautiful woman, and a nice enough teacher, _much_ better than Binns. But a mentor and a friend?”

Harry shrugged. “A lot has happened when dealing with Voldemort that the public doesn’t know about. We’ve had a lot of help. Narcissa was one of the people that helped us in a big way. She’s a very dear friend.”

Hermione nodded with Harry. “She was attracted to Harry, as women have a tendency to do when they spend any amount of time with him, and we… we explored our options.”

Katie sat still, her fingers clutching the grass beneath her. “Options?” She echoed, her eyes searching Hermione’s. “So you two and Harry weren’t together _separately_?” Her blush answered Katie’s question. She looked back and forth between the two. “Well, while one fantasy is destroyed, at least another, more powerful one is here. But…” the two raised their eyebrows at her hesitation. “I’d accept in a heartbeat. If Hermione is attracted to me, that’s just a bonus. But I’ve overstepped my bounds as it is. I betrayed my best friends already, and I don’t think I can accept without them.”

Harry furrowed his brows. “Alicia and Angelina?”

She nodded. “We three have a history of… exploring our options, as you put it, together. But at this point, it’s a bit more than an option. We all planned on living together after Hogwarts.” She smiled sadly. “You have no idea how devastated they were when I told them what happened. They thought that I was leaving them, and had forgotten about them. I… I don’t think they’re going to talk to me again.”

Harry put his hand on her thigh. “Well, I wouldn’t say that. They certainly care enough to follow you here.”

Her head snapped to him, and seeing his smirk, glanced around. “What? Where?”

“From the entrance to the Locker rooms,” Hermione informed her, not missing a beat. “They’re going to poke their head out when you two start racing. And I suppose they plan on seducing you when you go in there, Harry.”

Harry pulled at his collar. “Ah. I see their thinking process; instead of being angry at Katie, follow her lead. The Direct Approach.”

“It’s never failed before,” the brunette commented. “Though it is a bit more direct than expected.”

“Look,” Katie fidgeted. “Even unintentionally, I don’t want to get between you two, no matter how much I toyed with it in my head when it was just you and Padma, Harry.” She turned to Hermione. “That being said, I wouldn’t mind getting between you two in the physical sense.”

Hermione had the grace to chuckle. “Like I said, I’m not getting in the way of any decision you make.” Her eyes were lidded as the Chaser smiled softly. “I suppose I don’t have to explain to you how beautiful you are, with Harry’s overdramatic presentation.”

Katie and Harry laughed as they remembered her little helicopter ride. “Dear _Merlin_ that was fun!” she cried, and squeezed Harry’s waist. “We should do that again sometime.” She kissed him on the cheek. “And don’t try to be such a gentleman.”

Harry squeezed her right back. “You’ve got my promise.” He glanced over the locker room as Katie put her head on his shoulder. “What should we do about them? Same deal?”

Katie answered. “They’ll take the deal. They wouldn’t even hesitate. They have more than a little crush on you after all these years.”

Hermione gently lifted Katie’s head and put it on her own shoulder, and Katie allowed it. “Harry, why don’t you go give them what they want? I doubt you’ll need my help. I’ll stay here with Katie, unless she wants to help their ambush.”

Katie shrugged as Hermione ran her fingers through her loose strands of black hair. “They didn’t tell me about it, so I think I would have been part of the ambush. They’d get us when we were tired from the race, is my guess.” She chuckled as a thought came to her. “They’d probably make me watch as punishment.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like you’re pissed at the thought.”

“Oh, I’m livid,” she sighed happily, “But Hermione’s fingers are so soothing. And… you two just don’t know how happy you’ve made me. It’s a lot to take in.”

Harry’s and Hermione’s eyes met over her head. “Fair warning,” Hermione muttered, “It won’t be limited to just us.”

“I understand… Mistress,” Katie teased under her breath, waiting for their reaction.

Hermione’s fingers stilled. Then, after a moment, she began stroking her hair again. She smiled.

Harry chuckled. “Looks like Narcissa was right. We’re just getting started.”

“This is going to take getting used to,” Hermione stressed to him, moving Katie’s head to her lap. “But the thought doesn’t scare me. It’s more than gotten out of hand, and I don’t think it’s something I even _want_ to control.”

Harry stood up and shook his legs. “Easy for you to say – I’m the whore in this.”

Hermione stuck out her tongue, and smirked. “I may be the Mistress, Harry, but you don’t seem to be getting paid. Maybe you’re just a slut?”

He grinned. “I’ll make sure to charge you next time.” He leant down to kiss her on her forehead and left.

“It will be worth every penny,” Hermione whispered, watching his retreating form. “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Potter?” She poked the almost sleeping girl.

Katie shuffled a bit. “What? I’m who now?” She craned her neck to face Hermione, who looked amused. “There can be more than one Mrs. Potter? My dad is a muggle, I don’t know Wizarding customs.”

She shook her head. “No, they can’t.” Perhaps it would be a bit too soon to mention to the girl that ‘Harry and Katie’ was not written out on Harry's chest as he had told her, but rather something much more intimate. He only claimed that to save her the embarrassment. And while ‘Katie Potter’ was not a possibility, she had another offer in mind that could be just as gratifying. ”But Harry can have concubines. We’re making that offer to you, just like Harry is going to make that offer to Alicia and Angelina.”

Katie shifted her whole body to face up. “So you’re Mrs. Potter? Who’s the rest?”

“Narcissa is our first concubine,” she said slowly, gauging her reaction. At the pleased smile, the brunette smirked. “So you’re pleased about our dear History of Magic Professor?”

“She’s a beautiful woman,” Katie admitted, “and I’m all for this inter-house bonding you two seem to be forming, what with Padma and the Head of Slytherin House. But that’s not why I’m smiling. ‘ _Our_ ’ concubine?” She teased the brunette.

Now it was Hermione’s turn to blush. “Well, she certainly took the time to make me feel like I shouldn’t regret the choice of sharing.” Her eyes locked onto Katie’s. “You called me ‘Mistress’ a moment ago, did you not?”

“…Yes.” Katie tensed – she was only teasing earlier, but she felt herself shudder at the title when she said it.

The younger witch seemed to feel it then. “You liked it. So you know I don’t think I can accept any other title, right, Katie?”

The girls stared at each other for a good, hard minute. She had given her the ultimatum – how far was she willing to go for Harry? For the both of them?

“I understand… Mistress.” It was a tentative answer. Hermione didn’t delude herself with the notion that Katie was completely into the idea. She wasn’t even sure herself if she was serious about that statement.

But her next actions were a bit more concrete, as Katie lifted her hand to Hermione’s cheeks, her surprisingly soft fingers pressing into her rosy skin, before she slowly leaned up.

Hermione briefly hesitated. She had a history with Harry and Narcissa, and she loved them so much it hurt; she had an excuse to kiss them. But kissing Katie, here and now – it would say so much more than Katie could ever say verbally.

She wanted this. She truly, really wanted this. And Hermione wasn’t going to disappoint her. She quickly brought her head down and met the pretty Chaser in a kiss.

She felt Katie breath sharply through her nose as their lips met. Hermione’s hand sneaked beneath her head and held her lovingly as Katie rested her hand on the brunette’s shoulder.

The romantic in Katie tried to take in the scene playing out between them: The dominating bookworm and the submitting jock, locked together in the middle of the field, her own territory, in front of the world. She couldn’t have written this, it was so unreal. And she leaned back from the pretty bookworm and smiled up at her, her fingers ghosting over the edge of her chin. She, Angelina and Alicia had plenty of intimate moments, but their relationship was strictly in the form of best friends that liked to satisfy each other’s needs. They had talked about being more than that; they had planned on all getting a flat together. But there were _supposed_ to be no hard feelings if one of them was to move on to a more ‘meaningful’ relationship.

She hoped they were faring well.

* * *

**Author's Note:**  Huh. This was updated. Imagine that. Hope you enjoyed it. It's true hell trying to write something you haven't been involved with in a while.

This has always been a fun fic intention of an idea, but it's gotten to a bit on the serious side. After the next chapter, I'll bring it back to the fun side.

(1)Yes, I know that Ron did nothing of the sort, and that Seamus, in the book and movie, lit his feather on fire and blew it up, respectively. But I have read far too many stories where they give that liberty to Ron, and I'm just keeping that misconception alive, because, let's face it, it's in his character.

I have a [Patreon](https:patreon.com/Rihaan), now. And believe it or not, trying out for that endeavor, and that whole subscription thing (btw, sent out to subscribers on October 31), inspired me to continue this. Because someone who asks for support shouldn't have abandoned stories. I think you know what update may come in the future.

 **Note:**  When I said I have patreon, that does not imply that I will be holding chapters for ransom. I  _won't_  be.  _Ever_. It's a tip jar. I'm a waiter that's already supplied the meal. Tips are completely up to you. That's a good metaphor, right?

Of course, one of the best tips of all are still reviews. So, there's that.


End file.
